To Live Again: In Her Hands
by Wunderkind4006
Summary: She fell into his life at a time when he thought he was dying. Like a fallen star that burns boldly and without remorse. Illuminating his whole world, forcing him to wake up, when all he wanted to do was hide. How can this strange little elleth, with her bizarre habits, strange speech, and captivating spirit, ensnare an age old Prince. Accompanying fic for To Live Again.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Happy 2K everyone, this is for all my readers who specifically wanted to know Thranduil's POV in those early days of the main fanfiction To Live Again - anyone coming across this I would suggest you read the main fic to understand what is going on, this is merely an accompanying book.**

 **This little collection of chapters are basically the idea of the wonderful Raider-K who suggested I write down Thranduil's actual thoughts to the events of To Live Again. It starts the night Thranduil comes to visit Clara in the servants quarters with a gift of new paints which is set in Chapter 6 of the main fic To Live Again.**

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 **1\. Because it was Real**

"I would suggest you take it slowly my lord, your muscles are wasted...it will take some time to build up your stamina...gentle runs, minor resistance...NO combat, healers orders!"

I nod, I smile, I look completely interested in his conversation. If Calanon believes for one second I am even remotely paying attention, he would be even more inept than I had initially imagined. I am a parent...falling asleep whilst standing up is an art you develop rather quickly. Especially when your precious little bundle refuses to sleep...or even just be still for a moment.

Ai! A moment...Eru knows how much I would give for just a moments peace. Not from my son of course, oh Valar no! I'd rather spend my days with him than be bothered listening to this...what was the word she used...ee-jit? Huh...what a bizarre dialect? Bizarre, but fascinating...she is a riddle.

A beautiful riddle. A distractingly beautiful riddle!

I flinch slightly as my mind conjures her up, almost tauntingly. I loathe, and yet love, that I cannot erase her from my thoughts. I shouldn't care, I shouldn't entertain her...this is wrong! It is not right, I was joined before, I can't feel this way. Oh why must she enter my life now? A century ago and I would never have gave it a second thought...but then again, I never cared much before. In my pride I probably would have overlooked her...too caught up in my own self importance to notice truly beautiful things. It is ironic how physical beauty becomes fleeting when you no longer have it to flaunt.

No, I am afraid there would never have been a right time to meet her. I am not blessed with fortunate luck in love, and I suppose this is just another stark reminder of such misfortune.

Ah, but she is sweet. And alone! She shouldn't be alone. But she mistrusts me, and I suppose I would be suspicious of the over kindness of a stranger too. But she doesn't realise what she has done, she couldn't know how she has helped me. To have my son back, to fix what I thought was impossible to achieve on my own...I cannot ever repay her. Just to see my boy smile in her presence cripples my heart. She gives him what I took away from him - what I wasn't strong or good enough to provide him with. The most important right and greatest need he could have - a maternal love - and I failed to ensure he had even that. Yet, she provides it, and I do not ever want to take that from him. If I loved her, I would only jeopardise his happiness...and I have done that enough!

"My lord?

"Hmm?"

I snap my head up to meet the healer's questioning gaze, and silently berate myself for daydreaming. Calanon graces me with a bashful look, as he pushes a parcel wrapped in brown paper towards me. I tentatively take it, turning it over in my hand, before frowning - honestly I cannot stand dithering idiots.

"It is paint...for Clara...the elleth you hired." He reminds me, and I scowl.

"I know who she is, what is this to do with me?"

"Well, it is a gift and I was wondering, if it wasn't too much trouble...could you leave it for her?" He asks me cautiously, before bowing his head; "It is just I care for her wellbeing, I believe it will be good for her to do what she loves...and I am so busy I-"

"No it is fine!" I cut in a little too enthusiastically, and I cringe at my voice. "I mean...I understand...its hardly a trouble. I shall leave it with Raffyn when I return."

With that said I limp out of the healer's office, with barely an audible farewell. I hate healing halls.

Admittedly I have no intention of giving this parcel to Raffyn. I intend on hand delivering it myself. It is the perfect excuse for me to mend this ridiculous notion she has - that I some how mean her ill will. I also just want - no I need - to see her again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Setting: Taking place after the events of chapter seven, were Thranduil has invited Clara to meet him for a surprise outing in the marketplace the next morning. The conflicted prince considers the complications of his choices.**

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 **2\. Some Things I Just Can't Describe...**

They say if you stare at something strange long enough, you'll eventually get accustomed to it...I doubt they meant monsters.

The reflection on the wall length mirror presses every slight pressure point of my already fraying nerves. My nostrils flare in burning anger, my body trembles under the exertion I put upon it, and my mind reels in utter disgust.

I hate myself.

I have never in my long life experienced such violent notions towards my own reflection. I have never felt such heated aggression towards my physical self. I have never been at war with my own body and spirit. None of these emotions are familiar, not one of them make sense, and I loathe the lack of control in brings out in me.

My right hand balls into a tight fist, and in a careless gesture I draw my arm back and swing for the polished glass. The momentary satisfaction I gain from watching my reflection shatter into a array of tinkling shards is only short lived. For the second I regain some semblance of self, I recognise the stupidity of my rage...and again I am consumed by failure.

For a brief time I study the crimson lines that run down my fingertips. Droplets of blood splatter carelessly on the stone ground of my bed chamber, were the glass sliced my knuckles. It stings mildly, a curious sensation that feels like a mere tickle to me. A bubble of hysterical laughter erupts from my chest, as I contemplate my infliction.

How utterly pathetic am I? How reckless and immature...an elfling would have better sense.

"Ion nin...are you alright?"

My father's voice tugs at the very corners of my self-absorbed hysterics. I hear the alarm and panic in his distant voice, but I don't answer...I'm not sure why? It is not until his hands clamp around my wrist, to draw it upwards in examination, that I acknowledge him.

"I-I...made a mess," I admit shakily, as I continue to be transfixed by the lacerations on my knuckles that are already healing...unlike my face...unlike my eye.

"You certainly did," Adar mutters through gritted teeth, his lips drawn into a thin white line. He is angry...he should be angry. I have disappointed him again, he tries not to show it but I see. I see his frustrations and resentment...I am making stay. I am making him care for me like I am an elfling, for I am incapable of caring for myself.

"I do not like this mirror," I tell him hoarsely, and point to the shattered remains on the ground around us; "I cannot abide seeing myself."

"Yes, but must you be so extreme in your actions?" He sighs wearily, lifting his hand to rub tension away from his brow. "Ai, Thranduil, come to I clean this."

Adar leads me to my bed, roughly shoving me down on the soft mattress, before disappearing to retrieve fresh water. I curl into myself in his absence - drawing my knees to my chest and laying my marred cheek there to rest. My right arm loosely stretched in front of me like a dead limb, like it isn't part of me. Nothing ever feels part of me, I don't know what makes me, I do not even know what parts of me are real and which are shadows of me? I have a cheek to believe for a second she could look on me with anything but repulsion...if she could truly see me, she wouldn't be encouraging our little flirtation. She wouldn't be able to stomach it...no-one could...I am monstrous.

Adar returns with a basin of warm water, laced with something mildly medicinal. My nose scrunches at the smell, I know that smell, it smells of soaked gauze and rotting flesh. My stomach knots, and I focus my attention on restraining an involuntary gag. He takes my wounded hand in his own, and begins cleaning the cuts slowly and methodically. I wish he would hurry up - can he not see the sickness in my pallor? If it were I, I would wash off the blood briskly and be on my way. But, that is probably why I shall never have the patience to be a true healer.

"What brought this on?" Adar asks quietly, his hard grey eyes never leaving their task. "I thought you seemed settled this evening after Aradan left?"

"I told you, I do not like the mirror...I do want mirrors in my chambers," I grumble and scowl childishly at the remains of the mirror on the floor.

"Thranduil," Adar warns, as he puts pressure on my wrist, drawing my attention to him; "I can make allowances, excuses, and even explanations for your rages, but they cannot continue forever. I have shown you a great deal of leniency, you have much to wrestle with, but this is my home and I will not have it destroyed or upset again...you are not the only one affected by all of this son!"

"Oh...tell me who else is scarred and broken? The last I checked it was only I that faced that damn fire drake?" I sneer viciously, because I know it hurts him. He blames himself for sending me North to protect the borders. He believes he is at fault for my sickened mind, because he was too weak to stand up to the pressure of the Noldo King. Truthfully it has nothing to do with him, I volunteered to go, and I would have went with or without his blessing. I detest myself for lashing out at him, but I hate his words, they ring with too much honesty.

"Thranduil do not test me, I have no heart for your wicked tongue tonight," My Adar sighs wearily, as he smears on a balm to the fading cuts, they will barely be noticeable by dawn...thankfully.

Another moment of silence passes and then he asks me the same question again; "Tell me, what brought on this rage...it was hardly a mirror? You were fine earlier, I heard you laughing with that elleth."

"Clara...the elleth is named Clara," I snap involuntarily. I do not approve of his dismissive nature towards her. She has done much for his family...gratitude is not that difficult to show!

"The elleth is a servant girl," Adar reminds me sternly, his eyebrow rising challenging; "It is not proper to entice and manipulate young ladies of my court. Be careful how you present yourself, do not confuse the poor child. I understand you may feel the need to gain female attentions...but do not disgrace yourself for the sake of your ego."

"It is not like that!" I defend, maybe a little too quickly, as I lurch back from my Adar; "I would not jeopardise my child's contentment for my own pleasures...you know I wouldn't...or do you think so little of me?"

"You know very well I do not think that of you, but your reputation in the past proceeds you. I'm just warning you to be careful, rumours are more destructive than physical wounds, you know this."

I drop my defiant glower when he reminds me of that fact. I have no quarrel with him there. A fleeting pain takes hold in my heart, and a cruel memory attempts to nudge its way to the conscious part of my mind, but I stop it instantly. I have become quite good at that. I can keep many things locked beneath my surface, too many things.

"I'm not trying to upset you ion, I am not even trying to stop you from enjoying an obviously productive friendship," Adar murmurs sadly as he clasps his hand on my shoulder, gently shaking it; "I just do not think you are in the right frame of mind to be fully responsible for your behaviours. Just mind yourself. Invest your time in distracting yourself from these rages, keep your mind occupied, spend time with calming influences."

"Yes Ada," I sigh defeatedly and watch him exit the room. He pauses momentarily at the door and points to the glass mess;

"And get this cleaned up, your son could hurt himself!"

And with that command he leaves, in an elegant swirl of blue satins and silver hair. In a manner of a King, his fatherly demeanour still there but with that cooler exterior that I have become more comfortable with over the years.

Once I am certain I am alone, I wearily fall back into the inviting mattress. My mind aching from over exertion - I feel stretched - I cannot keep up to these inner battles. Adar is right, I need to focus on good distractions, but the only good distraction I can come up with is one he certainly disapproves of...Clara.

My lips twitch upwards, only for a moment, when I recall her shock at my spying on her. I wouldn't call it spying, or stalking, as she so eloquently put it. It's not difficult to take her unawares, she is so oblivious for an elf. So terribly endangered by her own innocence - all wide-eyed and wonder filled. She reminds me somewhat of a skittish young fawn, except that she is no child. She moves and behaves like one who is aware of her femininity...and _that_ is positively distracting.

I feel a swell of something akin to jealousy in the pit of my chest. The thought of her having belonged to another is devastating. I care little if she was bonded before, but it is more that I despise the thought of another possessing her. She is much to fair of heart and spirit to be owned. Her _Fea_ is mesmerisingly beautiful, she has the very breath of the stars in her spirit's light...I have never seen it before. I have never known another's life flame to burn so blindingly bright. I do not know from where she came, or for what reasons she has to run from herself, but I am certain that she cannot be from any tribe of elf known to our world. She is a gift, of that I am certain.

As much as I heed Adar's warnings, as much as I know my place and my duty, I am drawn to her in a way that is not measurable in physical standards. I want to leave her be, I want to retract and lick my wounds in the comfort of my solitude...but when she is near, she blinds me. When she moves through my world, respectively and quietly like she should, I feel like she is interrupting me. I want to hate her for ruining my darkness, but it is not her fault. I turn my anger towards her and I am met with the most disarming creature I have ever stumbled upon. She makes me crave her, like the moon craves the light of the sun...and she is entirely oblivious to it.

It is why I offered to befriend her, not out of charity but out of need. I need her in my life for she distracts me completely, she lets me forget. When she disappears she takes the light with her, and I am left in the darkness again. Haunted and embittered by the beast I see in the mirror.

If she could see my true face would her eyes still shine when she looks upon me? If she knew that the outward healing is only an elaborate mask...a spell...would she hide from me and take her healing light away for good?

If I admit to wanting her, does that make me more of a monster? Is it that I want her or just her nature? I don't think I can even begin to answer these questions. I am prying to deeply, I am thinking too much, and I am forgetting my vow to my son. I will not jeopardise his happiness for my selfishness...but what if it isn't selfishness, what if it was fate that timed all of this to perfection?

I immediately force the notion away from my mind! I will not dwell there, that is unhealthy and ludicrous. Clara is my good distraction, and I value her friendship for it does wonders for my son. Adar may think it improper, but he does not see what I can see. This is innocent, this is nothing more than a two way friendship. Clara and I both need things from each other, and that is all.

Tomorrow I will take her into the woods like I promised. Tomorrow I will attempt to try and repay her for the great things she has unknowingly did for me...nothing more.


	3. Chapter 3

**Setting: Set after Thranduil spends the day (and evening) with Clara and his chased from her quarters with a sleeping Legolas at the mid point of Chapter 9.**

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3\. Beautiful Disaster

"There you go...sweet dreams my little leaf."

"Nigh-nmm."

Legolas wriggles into the covers, burrowing his head into the plump downy softness of his pillows. His cheeks flushed pink with sleep, his eyes clouded in dreams. I can't help myself as I gently stroke the soft tuffs of his golden hair, were they have stuck to his face. Grinning proudly, I lean in and press a kiss to his blazing brow, pausing to breathe in his elfling scent.  
If I could keep him like this forever I surely would.

Every battle, every war, every wound and scar is all worth it, if it keeps him safe, if it secures his freedom. I would take it all again - gladly - if it meant he would never live in a world doused in evil again. If I could spare him such sacrifices I would...but such miracles are nothing more than whimsical daydreams. He will fight one day - but not for as long as I can avoid it.

Straightening up from his bed, I wearily amble into the hallway, hoping I can navigate my way to my bathing rooms without bumping into Adar. That is another meeting I am happy to avoid for as long as possible. He wants to see me, I'm sure to point out my lack of responsibility to my title, but I need to bathe...I _really_ need to bathe.

Mercifully, after a few near misses with servants...who'd likely rat me out in a heartbeat...I slip into my own chambers. Trailing off clothing, piece by grubby price, I finally reach my desired destination.

The inviting sound of rushing water, from the overhead spring that runs down the rocks and into bathing pool, beckons to me. I know the showering water is cool, but not uncomfortably so - the thermal energy of the caves maintains a desirable temperature. If I wanted anything warmer I would have a servant draw a bath, but it's not heat I need...I need to cool down...I need to calm down.

There is a quivering knot in the lowest pit of my stomach. I can ignore it for the most part, but not always. At times it snags and pulses, tormenting me with a slew of unwanted desires. Desires that circulate every time I so much as think of how her body felt against mine...how enticingly soft her lips felt, when I stupidly attempted to kiss her!

What insanity drove me to act so recklessly, so beyond decorum, and propriety? I can not blame her, she was not to fault, she never so much as expected it...but then she never exactly refused the notion either? She didn't recoil...could I have encouraged her? Would she have let me if I had of persisted instead of retreating like a coward?

The moment I let the question form in my mind, is the moment my imagination alights. Without permission that knot tightens and coils, and a heat spikes through my _fea -_ it is not an unwelcome sensation. In fact it is to welcoming, and I practically lunge into the cool water of the spring, so as to muffle an excitable groan and still the flying of my spiked pulse.

 _What have you done...you fool?_

I inhale with deliberate slowness, then gratefully accept the calmness that comes with my steadied exhale. I focus on the invigorating water, as it pours over my head and down my neck, streaming down my back and legs, and pooling in every little crevice and dip in my scarred skin. Gently I tip my head fully back, letting the water crash over my broken face. Parting my lips out of habit, I fill my mouth with the clean water, in my vain attempt to cleanse myself. Once I feel like I have squashed any further desires, I run my bands over my face and through my hair, then spit out the water held in my mouth. With a shake I bring myself forward, and rest my head on the wet stone of the cave wall in front of me, until my breathing relaxes and my senses return.

Studying the splayed fingers of my left hand, as it rests on the stone wall by me, I contemplate my options;

My first, and most sensible option, is to ignore this. To carry on like today never happened...erase it. Adar would prefer if I went with this option, this would be wise to him. But, I felt her _fea..._ I purposefully connected to it...that was my first terrible mistake! I tasted what it would be like to be closer to her, and now I want nothing else. I know - with complete certainty - that I will never feel half of what I feel from her with anyone else. So no, this option is not feasible...I'll never forget.

I could pursue her - I prefer this option. I could do all in my power to win her affections. Then I could have it all...a love that is real and honest. A family for my son, I could do right by him, I could fix it...with her, I could fix everything that was undone. But...she would have to love me in return. I could never force her, my heart will not take another failure, and I am not so sure she feels as strongly as I do. If she even feels anything at all?

Perhaps, I am not in my right mind...perhaps I am rushing towards some sort of non-existent hope? I am sure it appears that way, but it doesn't feel that way. Oh for the love of Elbereth...this is insanity! I am not a youth, I am not an idiot, I know my own mind and I know I care for the elleth. If that is a crime so be it! Who am I to question such things? Logic and well laid plans do not necessarily equal success either, I am living proof of that.

With an audible huff at my inner argument, I reach for a towel and briskly dry myself off. Scowling and muttering as I go, until eventually I catch myself in the reflection of the water in the pool beneath me. I sigh, and run the towel over the ends of my hair...arguing with your own mind is certainly a sign of impending madness. However, I am not quite sure if this is a sickness of the mind or the heart? As if to answer, my heart skips a beat as I touch my cheek.

She kissed my cheek...and was not repulsed. It was only a peck, barely distinguishable, as light as butterfly wings. Yet it has left an imprint on my faux skin, forever trapped in the memory of the enchantment coursing in the veins of my _fea._ She has unwittingly left her mark...I have no one to blame but myself if this ends tragically.

My mind is made up, as I quit the bathing rooms and slosh back into my bed chamber. I will not find any peace until I know for certain if I have even the smallest of chances. If it is even remotely possible for her to return my feelings, then I will take the chance. If not, well, what is one more scar to heal?

I reach my bed, and with a quick check to ensure I am alone, I fall face first into the pillow. A tad immature I admit, but the fact that I am attempting to pursue an elleth after at least several decades of solitude, is enough to make me cringe. I have not the slightest inclination were to start?

I used to be good at this! I used to have have ellith in every corner of the Kingdom. Depending on my mood, I would flit to whomever I felt I could tolerate...but I was young, and none of it was about love. It was all innocent courting...well most of it. I will admit to being on the receiving end of a few angry fathers' but it was all in the game. I never bonded with any ellith, I never wanted too. I have only ever lain with the mother of my child, and that was the only soul purpose for the act. I never desired her, I wanted to, but I couldn't please her...she did not want me to, I respected her wish. But the very thought of being that close to Clara, just the suggestion of it, is enough to undo me. I dare not imagine such a thing, it is improper and I care too much for her to degrade or taint her with my selfish desires. She deserves so much more than that, and if all I can ever do is stand in the shadows of her radiating light, then that is more than enough...I would be satisfied with just that.

"And where exactly have you been?"

I literally hiss in shock at hearing his voice, it's anger smashing up my perfect rivière. I wrestle with the loosened towel around my waist, as I scramble to my knees to face my Adar...and his cold appraisal.

"Out," I answer a little too huskily, and I attempt to clear my throat...and my head...before I shame myself further.

"You were not _out_ Thranduil, you were having supper with lady Gilron's daughter and that elleth no doubt!" He reminds me scornfully, his jaw clenching in irritation.

"Legolas was having such a great time, I just did not have the heart to tear him away." Oh how despicable Thranduil, blaming your infant son instead of yourself...you should be ashamed!

"You will ruin that child, you indulge him far to much." Adar snaps and shakes his head in disappointment; "You were expected to dine with myself and my Lindon guests tonight...your absence did not go unnoticed!"

"You mean Lady Ithril noticed," I correct him, much to his annoyance, as I stroll to a chest of drawers and begin rummaging for fresh clothes; "Ada, the elleth is about as interesting as a rock. Would you please just find someone else to amuse her, I am in no mood to entertain Sindarin aristocracy."

"Are you not Sindar ion nin? Are you not nobility?" Adar huffs haughtily, his voice sounding bored with me already.

"I am not of Lindon, I have nothing in common with those elves," I mutter as I wrestle an olive tunic over my head, then sigh glumly when it gets stuck.

"Yes but maybe it would do you no harm to enlighten yourself," He grumbles as his hands reach for the hems of the tunic I am twisted up in; "Oh for heavens sake child, you are a disaster!"

"It's too tight," I whine, when I force it over my head with a final push; "All my own clothes are tight, I need to train more, I need to get my body back to what it was."

"It is tight because you are still swollen, things will even out soon, the healing enchantment is already working exceptionally well," Ada comments lightly, a small smile warming up his cold features. "You do not need to train so much, there is no need. It's not like you will be returning to the guard or taking up your previous duties."

"Yes I am," I reply defiantly as I brush past him and return to my bed. I am not having this discussion again; "I am still commanding general of our forces, and I will continue to be, for as long as the woodland elves remain and I am blessed with life. You will have to accept it Ada...this is my choice."

"Ai, you wear me out," Adar grouches bitterly, as he plops himself down on the edge of my bed, peeking up at me with cautious eyes. I merely inspect my nail beds, before feigning interest in the farthest wall.

"Are we done, can I assume I am reprimanded for not turning up to your elegant feast?" I mutter, whilst still glaring defiantly at the far wall.

"I am trying ion, I really am trying," Adar groans into his hands, were he nestles his face. I feel a tad remorseful - he didn't ask for this, it's not his fault his child is a walking disaster; "I thought maybe if you were surrounded by some of your peers you might feel a little more like yourself? You were a warrior, and an iconic one at that, but it's time to let those days pass Thranduil. There is plenty more interests open to a Prince other than combat. You could turn you hand to politics, law, trade even? You have a wonderful charisma, you would make a great ambassador, and Eru knows I loathe those frivolous parties. Would you not just indulge me, it can do you no harm to mix with your counterparts in other realms. You never know, you might just find-"

"Do not finish that statement," I groan, and flash my Adar a defeated grimace; "We both know there is no elleth in Lindon that would entertain me...at least not out of genuine reasons."

"One mistake Thranduil, we can all make one mistake. You do not have to berate yourself forever," Adar tells me with a sympathetic look which churns my insides. He still defends me, even when I shut him out, even when I deserve the blame. With a sigh he stands, and smooths out his tunic before flashing me a grin; "Although I would agree, that Ithril is a terribly irritating elleth. But her father and I are friends, she is welcome here, and she may come in useful for idle gossip. Just try ion, just try and broaden your mind...hmmm?"

I give a tight smile, and forced nod of agreement. I try to look interested, I try to appear like his words mean something to me, but I know my eyes (or I suppose one working eye) betray my utter dislike of the whole idea.

Me? Show my face in Lindon again...as an Ambassador? I can see it now, it would be the end of civilised negotiations as we know it...particularly if any of _her_ political inclined family are involved. I would probably end up embedding my fist in one of her opinionated cousins jaws...how is that for Silvan hospitality!

No, no I really do not think that is a wise situation to put me in...at least not yet. There is still much bad blood between Legolas' mother and I...far too much.

Sliding down into the blankets of my bed, I sigh and lament my stubbornness. I understand Adar's point, I really do, but the world is evil and filled with darkness. My people are not accustomed to such monsters, they need directed wisely and sensibly. If the whispers are true, and war does come, then I will be ready...and so will my people. Adar cannot disagree with such logic, I just have to prove I am capable of returning. Capable of knowing my own mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**Setting: End of Chapter 9, when Thranduil and Clara have a run in, and there is a slight jealousy issue XD**

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4\. O, Beware, My Lord, of Jealousy!

"She has a name!"

The resentment in her voice hits me with all the force of a raging wind. It takes all my resolve not to flinch away from her. I glance to my right, finding the reason for this argument, staring in utter astonishment at my reaction. Aradan - my closest friend, my one confidant - seems to be completely oblivious to the line he has crossed. It was _not_ his place to ask her...he should not have been so forward! So unprofessional...this was hardly the place. And to think I wouldn't mind...the audacity!

"My apologies Clara," I reply through gritted teeth, "But you do have responsibilities and I was not made aware of your intentions, I could require your assistance?"

 _Hmph,_ there that will teach her to be so presumptuous. She does serve me after all, and it is quite unprofessional to assume that you can just flit off to attend parties when you have duties. And these are not just refined parties, these are wild dances! I've been to a few - alright, admittedly more than a few - and they are no place for impressionable young elleth. Especially not respectable elleth from the King's court! Aradan knows this, he does not care for he, if he did he would not put her reputation in jeopardy.

"And do you?" She asks defiantly, and to my utter shock she draws herself up to her full height. She is challenging me? How dare she! I am a Prince, she show should more respect. But, when she flashes her gaze over mine, I stutter and shrink. The hurt written there is plain to see...and I did that.

"Am I required to serve you?"

"N..No," I scramble over my words, trying vainly to claw back some control, some element of dignity. "I just meant...well you should inform me if you wish to take leave it is the respectful thing to do."

"But she is?" Aradan suddenly interjects with a bemused look, "I just asked her a few minutes ago, I am certain she would have given you fair warning. But surely you would not withhold from her the chance to socialise and make connections; it must get terribly lonely for you Clara in those halls all day?"

"Oh I don't mind," She sniffs and looks away from me. I begin to prickle all over with embarrassment. Aradan speaks the truth, but _damn it all,_ doesn't she understand? I don't want her to go with him, I don't want her to leave me, I want her to stay. She could get hurt, she could become embroiled in something unsavoury, what if she fell for someone else? What if Aradan pleases her in ways I cannot?

"After all I am employed to serve his highness! I have no right to complain."

My thoughts stop spinning wildly in all sorts of worst case imaginings. Those words feel like ice in my chest. Like she has clawed under my skin and exposed me - and all my pitiful shortcomings. But still, how could she say that?

Is that how you view me?" I bark and lunge forward. I want to grab her and shake her, to scream that this is not me! I don't let people in, to remind her she is the exception...but how could she know that. Instead I snarl out a shocked question; "You believe I view you as a mere servant girl?"

"Well you just said as much!" Her painful cry unsettles me...is that what she thinks? Maybe I was wrong to think there was anything between us...for the love of the Valar, she has no sense of duty, she is being nothing more than a petulant ill-reared child! I am being absurd, I am furious that I can allow one such as this to disrespect me, to violate my privacy like this, and make me appear like the unreasonable one. Who does she think she is, abusing my affections for her so callously?

"I could have you punished for speaking to me in such a tone as that!" I bite back because I cannot think of another threat. I am stung, this was a shock, I did not factor this into the equation. I could have barely coped if she did not feel for me, as I do for her, but to imagine losing her affections to someone else...now that just stings!

"Thranduil!" Aradan warns and steps in between us; "Control yourself! She meant no harm you are the one acting unreasonably!"

It takes all of my patience not to roar at him in frustration. _No! I am not the unreasonable one...she is toying with me...both of you are!_

"Ada?"

It is second nature for me to twitch towards my son when he calls, especially when he uses such an emotive voice. The kind of tone that alerts me of risk, that decibel that reminds me that whatever I feel is inconsequential, for it comes secondary to his fears.

"Ada do not shout at Clara?" he pleads, giving me a fearful look; "Don't send her away please, she is our friend."

For a brief second I cannot comprehend his request. All I see is the anxiety in his young face. He is a child, he should not be fearful...but then I realise the truth. He is fearful of me, of my temper, of my penchant to push people out of his life. The guilt that hits me like a wave is enough to make me sway, but I still cannot override my fury at the elleth he defends. I try to remain calm, I try to think rationally, but nothing is rational about the overwhelming possessiveness I feel for Clara. My stomach churns, and my thoughts settle on the term 'friend'. No, I am afraid she is not a friend, and she never will be just a friend. It is like asking me to hold a searing hot poker in my hands and claim it does not pain me...an impossible task.

Angrily I turn my wounded pride to Aradan, only to find him glaring back with equal displeasure. I grind my teeth, and feel my features contort in an ugly jealousy. For the first time since I befriended this elf, I find that his presence is unwanted. He is tall, strong - admittedly handsome for one of the Silvan - and everything I am not. He is patient, cheerful, understanding, tolerant... _ugh_ he sickens me.

"Clara?" Legolas' anxious cry has me jerking away from Aradan, turning my back on him, and refusing to look into his questioning eyes. I do not want his sympathy, nor do I need to behold his triumphant gloating. Instead I fix my expressionless gaze on my son as he attempts to fix yet more of the damage I cause.

"Clara do not go, Ada does not mean to shout."

 _Yes son, I did mean it. You speak to generously in defence of me._

"I know sweetpea I know," She replies in that soft and foreign lilt. Tears of shame and hurt already haunt her too pale features, yet still she does not attempt to turn my son against me, though I imagine anyone lesser would; "But you just go play with your Ada for a little while, and I will wait for you in the garden we passed on the way in? Hmm is that okay?"

" _Legolas!"_ I call, or admittedly growl out in a less than welcoming voice, but I cannot stand to hear the formality in her tone.

I've reminded her of her station, of her debt to me, of how I have more control over her than she can comfortably accept. She would still be lying in that Healing Hall, with not a possession to her name, if I had not seen her talent and potential. She should remember that from time to time, it might cool her defiant heart, and make her more thankful!

"I will be in the nearby garden, please summon me when you require my presence my lord," she calls to me with a deadened voice, but I am no fool, I see the spark of hope in her eyes...a hope that I'll repent of my anger...she has clearly misjudged me.

I do not move a muscle, I simply look through her, like she means nothing. It is something you learn in royal circles, and in military circles. You cannot feel for everything that provokes emotion in you, it would only break your heart - like I sense Clara's is at this very moment. She is young, and she feels too much, she'll learn to separate herself from her emotions one day...just like the rest of us. Maybe when she does there might be a chance for us, until then I have no need for this excessive drama in my life!

I don't even look at my son, as I grip his wrist and turn him away, leading him out of the barracks. I have not the faintest idea where I am taking him, but I'm not staying here!

"Thranduil?" Aradan calls, and I hear his approach; "My lord...you wanted to train for the afternoon, do I assume you have changed your mind?"

"You assume much!" I seethe and twist my head so I lean threateningly into him.

"I beg your pardon?" He raises an unimpressed eyebrow, and I feel my lip curl into a snarl at his brazenness. "Mellon, you know it takes more than your temper and your words to threaten me. We've been brothers in arms far too long for that nonsense...you are upset over the elleth...yes?"

"Aradan!" I growl, as I feel the heat rise up my neck and burn my face. "It is none of your business!"

"Ah, I think the prince doth protest to much," He chuckles and I think I feel sick to my core...he knows! He knows and yet he still pursues her. "She is a lovely young thing, so bright, I have not seen a life burn so vividly before. It's like she was meant for this life, no? I wonder what it would be like to feel that _fea-_ "

"Your words are disgraceful captain, your thoughts improper...do not speak of a lady of my father's court in such a manner! At least not before your Prince!" I bark furiously, cutting him off before his words ignite my jealousy further. It's claws already dig too deeply into my heart; "You are too bold Aradan...you forget your place."

"I am of the opinion it's not my boldness or my familiarity that threatens you, my lord," Aradan smirks, but bows deeply in faux respect. I feel my skin prickle and my chest tighten at his musings; "I believe that it is your own heart that you fear. But, alas, I'm not but a young ellon who has not known love yet...maybe I am not qualified enough to make such an assumption."

"As I said, you assume too much," I reply through gritted teeth, as I watch him shrug carelessly before sauntering off.

"Well then, I shall _assume_ we are finished for the day," He replies cheerily, then stops to regard me; "And I'll _assume_ I'll be seeing you at the gathering then...may the better elf win."

My eyes widen and my jaw slackens, in a rather unbecoming fashion. It takes a few perturbed glances from passers-by for me to rectify my unsightly appearance. Gruffly I snatch Legolas' hand again and stride off in a directionless path.

"Ada...Ada, slow down," Legolas whines breathlessly, as I turn yet another corner and practically run him along it. "Ada my feet hurt, and I'm thirsty, and where are we going?"

"I do not know child, stop asking ridiculous questions," I snap back, because I don't know and I just want to run...I could run...I could take him and run away. We could leave this place, we could go into the wider forest, they'd never find me. I know it too well. I could raise him away from duty, responsibility, and title. We could have freedom to do as we wish.

"Ada! Ada, why are we in the stables...I don't want to go riding today...I want to stay in the caves," Legolas mumbles anxiously and pulls on my hand, alerting me to the fact that we have indeed ran the whole way to the royal stables. "Ada, I'm thirsty...and my feet hurt...I want to go back now, I want to find Clara in the garden."

"Well you do not always get what you want!" I say with a rather petulant voice, as I pause and consider our surroundings...Valar forgive me, I am a terrible excuse for a father.

"But...I'm thirsty," He begins to sob, great big fearful sobs, as he rubs his eyes with his sleeves.

" _Ai child!_ Stop crying," I groan and hoist him up onto a hay bale. "Sit there, and do not move a muscle until I come back. I'm only going to the well in the courtyard."

Obediently he nods, and I dart to the well, because I daren't leave him for a minute...I don't trust him to keep to his word. He'll be climbing the nearest barn roof if I'm not quick enough. I find the well, and borrow one of the tin cups left by a stable hand - I'm sure he will not mind. Hastily I draw the water, fill the cup, and spill most of the contents in my rush back to my elfling...I was never very good at this care taking business. I don't know what provoked me to think for a second, that I could take care of him on my own in the wild. I'd probably lose him down a ravine through careless parenting, or forget and leave him up a tree for the night. I really do need all the help I can get, and as much as it burns me to admit it, I need Clara.

"Here," I mutter as I shove the tin cup under my son's nose. His chin is against his chest, and his eyes downcast, as he fidgets with his sleeve. Notable sobs still emanating from him, which grinds my patience.

"Are you thirsty, or are you not?" I say with an irritated sigh, and when he doesn't answer, I pull out his hand and force the cup into it; "Fi-what is this?" I balk and stare at the welt on his hand. "Where did you get this?"

"I would not sit still in lessons," he sniffles, but gingerly takes the cup from me. "Clara didn't like that Lady Ithril did that, but I overheard Grandpa say if I misbehave she has to. So Clara brought me to see you, because I asked her, I told her it would make me feel better if she did. Don't be angry at her Ada...it's my fault."

"Your Grandpa says an awful lot," I reply and twist away to lean on the bale beside him.

I scowl furiously at the ground, as I go through the various ways in which I could happily mark the skin of both Ithril and Adar for allowing this. He is my son, I will determine his punishment - not some high born elleth, or my Adar! Oh I could choke them both, I do not care if he deserved it, I do not care if it is the done thing. My Naneth never allowed a teacher or nursemaid to lift their hand to me - she did if it was absolutely called upon, but not them. She used to tell me a punishment is more effective when delivered by someone who loves you, for they punish to guide you and help you grow, someone who has no such feelings only encourage resentment and fear. Adar forgets this, he forgets everything - or at least that is how it feels, for he never speaks of her.

"Ada...are you angry at me?" Legolas asks timidly, and I lift my head from my hand to observe his fearful face, so full of anxiety.

"No," I shake my head and give a small smile; "No _ion nin,_ I am not angry at you...just disappointed in myself."

"Because you shouted at Clara?" He asks, and then quickly diverts his eyes; "Why did you get angry Ada? She is your friend, you are not supposed to treat friends like that...at least not when they are good like Clara."

"No, I suppose that wasn't very nice of me," I reply and nudge his shoulder with mine so he looks at me; "I'm sorry, you know that don't you? I did not mean to make you, or Clara, sad."

"I know," Legolas giggles softly and props his head against my shoulder. "But you probably should say sorry to Clara, she doesn't know that sometimes you don't mean to shout. She doesn't know you like I know you."

"No, she absolutely does not!" I laugh as I scoop him up and toss him in the air, delighted with the shrieks of laughter he returns...at least I have salvaged that much. I pull him close until our noses bump before whispering; "I will have no closer friend that you my little leaf, you are my whole world, don't you ever forget that."

"Me too Ada," He sniggers and pats my scarred cheek, without even the slightest hesitation. "But, Clara has nobody too, and she really _really_ is a lot of fun. I would not mind if you let her be our friend as well."

"Do you think she would even want to be my friend after how I behaved?" I ask, feeling more than just a pang of guilt...I feel absolutely vile about my jealous actions!

"Hm, I think she would," Legolas tilts his head to think and then nods briskly. "She would forgive you if you said sorry, and if you took her dancing."

"Dancing?" I practically choke on the thought, if I didn't know better I would say my little elfling knows all to well what he is doing. "And where would we go dancing?"

"At the party Aradan is taking her to," he reminds me with an innocent expression. "She loves dancing Ada, and so do you. She will forgive you if you dance with her, and promise not to shout at her again."

"You, _ion nin_ , are full of mischief," I warn playfully and catch his nose, making him giggle deviously. "Alright, I will go to the dance and apologize, and maybe - if she is not too angry - she will dance with me."


	5. Chapter 5

**Setting: Chapter 10...and after THAT Dance...leading to THAT Kiss...**

* * *

5\. I Don't Think You're Right for Him

The crowds.

The sea of perplexed faces; some clearly delighted, others scandalised, most seemingly merry - chalking the scene up to a good nights entertainment. It _was_ good entertainment, and for the most part enjoyable. I never consciously intend on causing a scene...I just do. I see no point in hiding behind the fame my title brings. The people will talk regardless of how a royal behaves, and if they intend on talking I may at least give them something worth talking about. Valar knows what has been said in the past - both good and bad. I can already hear the voices on the air;

"Who is the elleth?" One asks.

"A servant girl I think...my sister tells me she literally appeared overnight in the King's court," his friend replies.

"Ack, it's just another maid the prince has taken a fancy too," another interjects, and I squirm uncomfortably.

"Maybe more than a fancy," the first chuckles again, "Did you see how they danced? I'd wager there is more between them than meets the eye."

"Strange little thing," the friend muses. "Young I'd imagine, not courtly, and certainly not usually befitting of his lordship's finicky tastes."

"Ah now," the first muses dreamily; "maybe his highness has learned beauty is fleeting and there is more substance to the common folk than these airy floozies, that pomp around in ridiculous dresses, with no earthly use to us."

"Or maybe the Prince has lost appeal to his peers, and his only hope is desperately throwing himself at a common maid!" The last, and obviously most cynical scoffs. "I mean look at him? And with his past he hasn't a hope! That elleth is either foolish and knows nothing of our Prince, or she is smart enough to seize an opportunity to better herself."

"Either way, good luck to her," the mutual friend sniggers; "I wouldn't entertain his highness for all the treasure in his vaults!"

The group of not so quiet elves erupt into fits of obnoxious laughter...much to my displeasure. My jaw twitches, and I automatically turn away from the fire pit. My eyes do not leave the path Clara took after Aradan, and I'm not overly concerned about his bruised ego - in fact I'm feeling rather smug. I consider ignoring the group of misinformed squires - after all what bearing do their opinions have on me - but I just can't leave things alone.

I make to cut an indirect path so as I pass by the sniggering idiots. It looks like I am simply taking a long awkward route after Clara, and for a few moments the youthful guards are blissfully unaware of my knowledge of their conversation. That is until I pause my step when I brush past them, and I'm amused when they all flounder and cough. Each of them bow deeply, and mumble their respects, so I reward them with a slight incline of my head and half-hearted attempt at looking them in the eye. I'm in no mood to terrify them, as much as I could, I find it cowardly to give mere elflings nightmares;

"Beautiful night is it not?" I muse aloud, and hold each of the three young ellyn in an appraising stare. I suppress a smirk at their confusion and continue my assessment; "The air is so quiet, you can just about hear every conversation on the breeze."

Each of their stupid mouths hang open in a mixture of horror and realisation, and I roll my eyes before tutting quietly. Really? How could they not know their voices carried? Youth - honestly it's a miracle that they even made it into the guard in the first place. I shall have to have a word with the accessors about tightening up training, these three will get themselves shot with their 'whispering'.

"I believe the armoury needs a good cleansing," I start casually and watch their faces fall. "It's an absolute disgrace, everything is disorganised, and the weapons need tending and catalogued. I expect you three to present yourselves there before first light, and do not be late...or nursing sore heads. Is that understood?"

"Yes my lord," the most cynical of the three hisses out, and scowls furiously at the ground. Whilst his friends nod vigorously in agreement, but shoot their opinionated friend unhappy daggers.

"Good," I snap and stride off but not before pausing and adding; "Excuse me while I go desperately throw myself at servant girls."

There is a great deal of mewing apologies and snivelling, but I just carry on my way. I have not the patience for gossiping commoners, and in fairness I cannot blame them. My colourful past does not exactly paint them a promising picture. So, I suppose I shall just have to shock them some more by not being so predictable. I also console myself with the knowledge that they shall not have much time to gossip whilst cleaning the armoury - it really is a disaster.

I admittedly skulk after Clara and my, probably rather peeved, friend. Well he has no one to blame but himself. Aradan should know better than to attempt to steal something of mine. Yet, I still slink guiltily through the shadows - I did after all hijack his evening. I would not blame him if he took a swing at me, and because I would rather not have to explain a black eye to my already suspicious father, I actively avoid crossing Aradan's path.

It's not the first time either of us has made a sport out of chasing an elleth. In our youth it was done the thing - who could win the affections of a fair maiden's heart first. It was a game solely built to feed our young egos. I would say I excelled at it, but truthfully I knew it was because I was a Prince. If a young common elleth was given the option of arriving to a banquet on my arm, as my honoured guest, over Aradan's, I can say with certainty she would pick me. Most ellith enjoy being fawned over, most love the luxury and the attention, most appreciate the elegance and the lure of entitlement...but Clara is not one of them.

I doubt it matters to her who she mingles with, so long as they show her respect. I reckon she cannot tell the difference between finely made gowns and poor substitutes, just as long as she feels confident in them. I know jewels and wealth are not a priority to her, for she seems utterly joyous with her meagre lot. She is not concerned with appearance, and puts stock in rolling around in the dirt with a child than preening her hair.

There is nothing I have in my possession that would interest her. What she wants is not physical, for I imagine the very same elleth would stubbornly go without, than accept my aid. I sense, and maybe I'm just foolishly hoping, but I sense that what she wants is not that different from what I want. I crave the peace of a family, and the love of a true mate, one that does not care if I'm a Prince or Pauper. Just another soul that I can run to, and find comfort in, and maybe even strength. I've been alone for so long that I have forgotten what it is like to be able to turn to someone dear to me for solace. Yet I find myself turning to Clara, looking for approval or encouragement. Maybe it is the insecurities from these scars, or maybe it's how she makes me feel good about myself, that has me chasing after her opinions like they are the only ones that matter. Either way it's her I want, and now I think she is willing to let me catch her. Or maybe it's the other way around? Although being 'caught' implies a level of resistance...I could not resist her even if wanted to. I would happily hand myself over to her in chains...I am a fool...but I do not care.

I loiter under the shadow of a pillar, barely listening to the apologetic exchange between Aradan and she. My heart beats too loudly in my own ears to allow me to hear anything else. My mind races ahead of me, elaborately painting a desired picture in my head. One in which I boldly swoop in and brazenly kiss her, with no hint of shame or shyness. My body, on the other hand, has quite forgotten how to work. My palms are clammy, my chest burns, my mouth suddenly dries up, and with it all coherent words flitter from my mind... _I cannot do this._

 _Coward!_

 _I can do this...maybe I should wait? She is distracted...it's maybe not a good time._

 _COWARD!_

 _Fine...well for the love of the Valar would you think of something to say...anything...anything at all Thranduil...any coherent words-_

"How much trouble are you in?"

 _THAT is your grand romantic opening? Well great, now you have just added to her guilt - guilt which you caused! Oh Eru how do you salvage this?_

"Heaps and heaps."

 _Oh good grief she answered, and she is laughing. A little grimly of course, but you are not in trouble. Fix this...fix it now..._

"I can hit him for you if you want, threaten him a little?"

 _Bravo...you idiot!_

"No it is quite alright," she replies breezily and turns her knowing stare on me. "I think though he might hit you."

"Yes well I probably deserve that,"

 _No I do not - he started it! Stop stalling and seize the opportunity, you are not going to get another one._

"We both do," She sighs regrettably and shakes her messy golden curls, making my heart lurch for her unnecessary guilt. She absently bites her lip in indecision, and I shiver as I imagine doing the same - biting that full bottom lip - I nearly groan in anticipation. _Valar help me! I cannot think of anything else._

 _"_ You do realise we are playing with fire here?" She questions me, her voice concerned and uneasy. I automatically snap back my attention, her worry is unnecessary, I am well aware of what I am doing and I do not regret it.

"I know," I murmur quietly and step closer to - so close now I can feel the heat of her body as it trembles at my approach - yet like before she does not run; "But I do not see it that way."

"How do you see it?" Her question is barely audible, her nervousness apparent, but it gives me courage to know she struggles just as much as I.

"I see this as a gift, a second chance, and you?"

 _Now...do it now...are you incompetent? Show her what she means to you!_

Her eyes are wide, huge grey saucers, that are actually quite comical to perceive. She is so young...how young? Is this wrong? Are they right...am I taking advantage of an impressionable girl?

 _Not so impressionable, she has no problem putting you in your place...she is waiting, and you are dithering...kiss her!_

Involuntarily, or perhaps instinctually, my hand sweeps the loose strands of her soft hair from her face. Her eyes close, her spidery eyelashes fluttering invitingly, and her lips part ever so seductively. That familiar twist intensifies in the pit of my stomach, and I reach for her. For a moment I cradle her cheek, and feel her _fea_ pulse with its powerful light. It feels like looking into the sun for a moment too long, like she blinds and burns me...only it is not entirely unpleasant. No, it is far from unpleasant, it's intoxicating! I find that once I become accustomed to the young vibrancy of her spirit, it isn't so distracting, and I _can_ make sense of her...and when I feel her _fea_ unconsciously pull towards mine, I find that courage I was desperately seeking only moments before. So when her eyes open again, I am certain of my reaction;

"I should have let this happen that day in the woods," I murmur, my lips not a hairs breadth from hers, and I am entirely fixated on them, "but then I was not sure what you really wanted, I still cannot be certain?"

It seems like the easiest thing in the world to graze my lips with hers...so very simple. She freezes, as I expected, but I feel her _fea_ excitedly roam around the edges of mine...I know she wants this, she just seems oblivious to her own spirit, but I forget she is healing just as much as I am. So, I playfully nudge her nose with mine, in the hope she feels my desire too. It does the trick, and in the passing of the briefest moment her lips form around mine...and it is more than I could have imagined.

I barely contain my deliriously triumphant grin when she pulls away and giggles. Such a sweet feminine sound, her cheeks flushed in her excitement, and her body still trembling nervously...I wish to still it, to feel it against mine. I cannot discipline myself, as I reach for her again. Only this time I want more...I want so much more.

Pulling her against me, I fearlessly take command again, surprising myself at my forwardness. Her lips are gentle, and warm against my scarred and misshapen mouth. Her body is full and soft, there is no power behind her slender arms nor any hardness about her. Those gossipers were not wrong, she is the farthest thing from what I am used to sampling. She is no athletic and demanding elleth - no, she is so much better than that. Her touch is caring, her embrace comforting, the deep curves of her body are more feminine than I am accustomed to. She is just an elleth, just a shapely little maiden...and it is driving me to distraction!

I have to will my hands not to stray, to not get carried away in my excitement. So instead I wrestle with my strength. I could overpower her easily...that is until she reminds me who is truly in control. Her hand clasps my face and I feel the heat of it burn through the deadness of the faux flesh. Suddenly she is just as bold and confident as I had been seconds earlier. I practically gasp when her tongue slides across my marred lip, parting it expertly...I can barely contain myself. I gather her closer, deepening the kiss as she has commanded, and let go.

I give in, to every want and need I have wrestled over since she appeared in my life. Her spirit glows brightly and I get lost in the comfort of its healing threads of light. I forget decorum, I forget the time or the place, I forget about all the little insignificant worries that have stopped me from doing this sooner. For once, in what feels like an eternity in the dark, I don't feel lost or uncertain. This feels right, this feels like it should...like love...or at least the beginnings of something deep rooted and defining.

"You cannot know how long I have waited for this," I sigh breathlessly, as I end our passionate embrace and lean against her for support. "I was just too much of a coward."

"I agree with you," she gasps and giggles, drawing another kiss from me, which I give without hesitation, for she honestly commands me. "You are a coward."

I frown at her assessment of my failings, but it is only in jest and she knows it. Drawn in by her bright eyes, and the teasing in her voice, I push the very limits of my own control. She will learn there are consequences to her actions, that I do not back down from a challenge. My eyes flit to the exposed skin of her chest, and the delicate bone that protrudes invitingly at her neck. Ducking down I kiss it lightly, suppressing a smirk at the sudden acceleration of heart...it is beating almost as fast as mine. Steadily I peel back the fabric of her collar, and kiss a line up her neck and across her jaw, pausing just shy of the tips of her delicate ears.

A heat slices through me, like a white hot flame, it almost breaks my control. The knot in my gut tightens and pulls, and I become acutely aware that it is building. It is her _fea_ , it is echoing my desires...I should stop...I must stop!

"Am I a coward now?" I whisper in her ear, feeling her shiver underneath my hands.

"Nope!" She yelps and I chuckle. I believe I have made my point.

Pulling away I plant a kiss on her brow, and work on gaining back some control over my own body. She surrenders happily into my embrace. Melting into my arms just as I had wanted her to, oblivious to the carnage she has let loose in my heart. She doesn't exercise control over her wants and desires, she doesn't attempt to guard her spirit from mine...it's like she doesn't know how? If I had of wanted to I could have taken advantage of her naivety...but she trusts me. She trusts me to hold her, and guide her...how could I ever abuse such trust? She belongs here, with me, and I to her. I vow to the Valar themselves that I will shield her from the evil that I have seen. With me she will be safe, for she gives me purpose again, she makes me feel whole...and I have not felt that in such a painfully long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**6\. Worlds Apart**

 ** _150 Years Ago - Southern Harlindon, Ossiriand._**

The mansion is full to the brim, I could barely move as I was led through the throngs of guests. All Sindar nobility of the South Harlindon City; aristocratic, elegant, fine-featured, and dripping in the finery of the Noldor. I felt my nose scrunch upwards in a disgusted grimace as I caught their appraising looks. I saw how the looked upon the Silvan who had journeyed with us - they stared at them with brazen haughtiness. I even noted how some looked horrified, or just plain confused by our coarse apparel and naivety to the dazzling brightness of courtly life. No matter what expressions they all held, there was a familiarity in all of them...pity.

Pity that their lord's daughter would be bound to such an uncouth nation. Pity, that one such as the Lady Bregeth would have her fine talents wasted in such a faraway and savage land. I felt my jaw set in a hard and uncomfortable position...this was not how I imagined this day.

"Thranduil," Raffyn, my father's second in command, lowered his head as if to whisper something pleasant in my ear. "You will frighten the young lady by wearing such a scowl."

"Good!" I snarled in response, "then at least she will understand her place...I will not tolerate such indifference to our people."

"Thranduil...please attempt to be understanding," Raffyn continued, with that still stupid smile plastered across his face. "You are asking the young lady to leave the only home she has ever known to be your wife...this is no small thing."

"She knows what she has agreed to," I growl, still maintaining my cold mask. "If this is to be a union out of duty, then let us keeps things as detached as possible. Logic led us to this point, there is little use for emotions now."

"Ai, Thranduil," Raffyn groans, and lets me stride past him to be welcomed by our host...Lord Bregon of East Harlindon. A noble Lord of the city, a fine warrior, and an elf dripping in foreign wealth. I am certain Adar is being compensated handsomely for this marriage.

The elf in question is equally as tall and lean as his daughter, with the same distant blue eyes that see far too much. Unlike his daughter he does appear to be enthused by my presence, and greets me with all the ferocity of long parted friends;

"Prince Thranduil, welcome," Bregon embraces me warmly, clapping a hand on my shoulders to guide me through to a dimly lit private lounge. "It is always so wonderful to be in the presence of one of Lassiel's blood. I am certain you hear this often, but you are truly like your mother's kin...honourable people they were."

"Yes," I reply coolly, as I shrug off my cloak and toss it uncaringly over the nearest armchair; "but they say I have my father's bearing." With a smirk I unsheathe a hidden long knife and present the handle to my host; "They say I enjoy the thrill of war too much...here, my lady probably does not approve of me lounging around her home with deadly weapons."

"i would agree that she would not," Bregon replies with an unimpressed sniff, and elegantly takes the knife from my grasp. I suppress a wicked grin, Adar warned me these folk were not accustomed to the wild freeness of our own culture. He had also warned me to remember my manners, I was raised to adhere to both my heritages and therefore should not offend those of my kin...but the opportunity was to good to pass up.

"My daughter shall be here shortly," Bregon continues, as he saunters to a ornate mahogany sideboard laden with various wines and malts. "She is most excited to be with you once again my lord, she has been looking forward to the day in which you both could official announce your engagement."

"Hmm, well that is not how I remembered her parting last spring. She told me not to rush back," I reply and raise an eyebrow, I cannot abide liars, especially not those who blatantly lie to ease my pride.

"Yes, well Bregeth can be a little coarse with her words," Bregon chuckles humourlessly, and hands me off a fine crystal glass overfilled with a deep crimson wine. I tentatively inhale the heady fragrance, only to be bitterly disappointed. This is a common place vintage, not something you serve to a guest especially not a prince, I am becoming less enamoured by this place with every passing moment. Bregon chatters on though, as if he has never insulted me; "Sometimes she struggles to express how she truly feels, she was raised not to show weakness...I am sure you can appreciate that such tactics are required n battle and in politics?"

I merely smile at my host, with a hard and forced smile that is so telling of my thoughts on the matter. Yes, such strength is essential in war and in political games but not in a marriage? Or at least I had never witnessed my mother employ such tactics with my father. Adar had said we were well matched, he had said Bregon was Naneth's friend and that it would thrill her if I found happiness with his daughter. He had also forcibly reminded me of my duty; with no Queen to rule our lands and no hope for additional heirs, then the hope of the continuation of our line and the future of our kingdom depended on me. Me...a father? The thought is laughable! I never wanted this, I am not even sure I want to be bound to another for eternity. A wife...I never gave much thought to what or who my wife would be, but I suppose Bregeth looks like an elleth I could picture as a Princess, as one that could handle the demands of my life.

"Oh darling, just on time!" Bregon cries in faux delight, as he flamboyantly announces the arrival of his daughter, and I immediately straighten up and turn to face the elleth who shall be my bride.

My breath quickens and my chest constricts, because Bregeth is flawless. She is exceptionally tall, with streams of shimmering golden brown hair framing her elegantly long neck and extenuating the luminosity of a perfect complexion. The deep navy of her silk gown skims over her taut and muscular body, reminding me that she may be beautiful but she is deadly as well. Her unreadable blue eyes scan and catalogue the room until they land on me, the widen slightly, before becoming as distant as ever.

"My lord," Bregeth mutters breathily before folding into a perfect curtsey, "it is wonderful to be in your company again, I have longed very much for it ."

"My lady," I reply with the same airy tone, bowing slightly, "I am overjoyed to know this, I was uncertain if you would welcome me here again."

"And why would I not?" She asks her voice spiking and I feel my temper rise at her challenging tone; "I have waited very patiently for the day that I may announce to the world, that I - a lowly lady of Lindon - will marry an Elven Prince! I am a lucky elleth, or so I am told."

"Do I detect sarcasm?" I ask, my voice lowering in agitation for it appears another one of our meetings is going to dissolve into an argument...typical!

"Oh, no you must be mistaken!" Bregeth answers me, much abashed by my assessment. "I am positively thrilled my lord, truly this is the most wonderful day of my life."

"Bregeth..." Bregon hushes, his face turning stoney and I reckon this is all a front to goad her father. Well, I cannot blame her I would probably do the same thing if mine were here.

"Oh Adar do not fuss," Bregeth pouts and flicks her hand at her father, "I am simply playing my part as you so eloquently suggested, now why don't you go entertain our guests and leave me with my soon to be husband...we must be reacquainted after such a long absence."

Before either Bregon and I can articulate any further conversation, Bregeth skips up to me and drapes her arms around my shoulders. Within the next heartbeat her lips are crushed against mine, and I can do nothing but stand glued to this very spot in utter shock. There is nothing warm or loving about her kiss, it is cold, dead, and motionless. For all her beauty I feel absolutely nothing for her, I feel no spark or desire to deepen the embrace, but I understand that I must try. So for the sake of playing the part I regain use of my hand, and slide up her neck to cradle her face and run my thumb along her cheek. I sense Bregon give a shocked gasp and he mutters something like an agreement, before leaving the room. Once he has vacated my hand turns rough, as I forcibly push Bregeth away and glare furiously at her;

"What was that?" I hiss when she simply grins uncaringly.

"It was a kiss," she chuckles and raises an eyebrow, "Oh please tell me that was not your first? How quaint?"

"It was not my first!" I scowl and step back from her, outstretching my hand so she cannot follow. "I mean why did you do that? You have never so much as held my hand, and now you brazenly kiss me in front of your father...is this some kind of game, for if it is I do not want any part of it!"

"Well if it was not your first then you need some practice," She titters boldly and flounces down on the nearest settee, gesturing for me to come sit by her, of course I refuse. She simply sighs at my stubbornness and rolls her eyes; "Thranduil we are announcing our engagement tonight, the people will expect to see some kind of affection from us. Besides, if we are to be married then we should at least become accustomed with the idea, after all it takes a little more than kissing to produce an heir."

"Why must you talk like that?" I ask almost involuntarily as I slap my hands down hard in exasperation, on the arm of the settee she sits on. She blinks in confusion and frowns, her perfect blood red lips pursing in consideration.

"I do not understand, what do you mean?" Her question is truly innocent, she honestly cannot see a flaw in her words. With a groan I sink onto the end of the settee she is curled up on, keeping my eyes fixed ahead as I consider the right words;

"Why must you talk like this is nothing more than a series of commands that must be executed," I murmur sadly, because I realise that try as I might I am incapable of keeping emotion out of this. "Bregeth, an heir? An heir is an elfling...an innocent child...our child? You cannot approach parenthood like you approach politics or a battlefield, a child needs love! Bregeth we do not even know how to love one another...how can we love a child?"

"Ai, Thranduil you are reading far too much into this," Bregeth sighs and inspects her nails as if she is bored with the conversation. "You allow your heart to rule your thoughts too much, you think too deeply over things that are as natural and common place as breathing. Couples have been having elflings since the beginning of time, it is just another part of life. An elfling needs nothing more than nourishment, stability, and care. All of which a nursemaid can provide, now stop fretting over inconsequential things."

"But I was not raised by a nursemaid Bregeth, at least not as an infant," I push the issue, and receive another irritated sigh but I continue nonetheless; "It is not right, and I am uncomfortable with how reluctant you are to discuss these concerns with me. If we are to be married then we should at least attempt to understand our thoughts on such important matters."

"Nonsense," Bregeth mutters and shoves herself up from the chair turning to glare fiercely at me. "There is nothing to discuss Thranduil. I have agreed to be your wife and you have agreed to be my husband, we will share a bed and if Eru permits, I will provide you with an heir...it is as simple as that! Now, come, we must announce are engagement to our guests."

I watch her walk away from me, I watch the resoluteness in her stance, and the determination in her walk, and the horrid cold truth of the situation dawns on me. She will always walk away from me, for she doesn't truly want me, or should I say she does not want what I do. We may be alike in nature, in stature, in mind, and in beauty...but we are worlds apart when it comes to the desires of our hearts.

This will never work...

 ** _Present Day - Halls of the King, Greenwood the Great._**

"Is it to your liking my lord?"

"Yes, yes they are flawless as alway mellon nin."

The royal silversmith beams proudly, his broad smile stretching further across his when he studies me more carefully. I shift a little uncomfortably under his gaze, as I return the silver betrothal rings back in their box, and produce a small pouch of coins for his service.

"My thanks," he bows deeply but as he straightens he looks upon me with a knowing look; "You know it is not my place to pry into my customers privacy, but my lord, I only want to express my joy. I hope that the elleth that you plan to gift these fine jewels to is more deserving than the last...my craftsmanship should be worn by those worthy of it."

"And so they shall," I reply brightly, intent on not divulging too much to the silversmith. "I can assure you she is ten thousand times more deserving of your craftsmanship than the last. She will wear them with honour, of that I can promise."

"Well then your highness, congratulations," He replies and returns to his furnace to continue working on another assignment.

"Do I have your assurance that you will keep this quiet?" I ask once more, and the ellon smiles broadly again.

"A good silversmith protects the identity of his customers," he replies and then gives a bright laugh, "and I am one of the best my lord."

"I would not dispute it," I chuckle and nod my thanks to him as I exit the dwelling to make for home with my purchase tucked in my robe pocket.

My footsteps are light, and I cannot contain the excitement mingled with nerves as I take the quickest route home. My mind races ahead of me, plotting of all the ways I shall ask her, and conjuring up all the ways in which she will react. Not once do I consider that she would refuse me, because I feel so certain about this. There is nothing I have been more certain of in my whole existence, even if she makes me wait I will wait an eternity for her. There is nothing I want more, and I will not let this chance slip through my hands. For once I think I am beginning to understand what this "love" means, and I like what I feel, I like what we have...it fees right.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you everyone for the warm reception for this little experiment of mine. To the reviewers as always I only tell stories because of guys...much love to; PureAngelEyes, Lexie, DeLacus, Madam X, Beachchick3, and teapotoftransformation.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Set the night of the winter celebrations, after the argument between Thranduil and Oropher.**

* * *

 **7\. Mid Winter Feast: Part I**

She was beautiful...truly breathtaking. I had never seen her look so regal in all of her time here, and as per true Clara fashion, she had not the faintest notion of how dazzling her presence was.

I have hid out, behind the pillar of the darkest corner I could possibly find, and still I see how she radiates life from here. With a sigh I proceed to lean my weight through the stone and continue to watch her, obscured by the deep green of the thick velvety banners draping the walls of the Great Hall. A smile tugs on my lips as I watch her spin in lively circles with the children. Her cheeks flushed pink with giddy exertion. The hems of her dress hoisted up so she can demonstrate her fancy footwork to excitable elflings.

I note the dainty slippers, and I suppress a chuckle at the mere thought of her trying to execute similar steps in ridiculously heeled shoes. I had clear visions of her ripping them from her feet and lobbing them at the nearest unsuspecting Lord or Lady. No, my Clara is not very fond of complicated fashion...although that dress?

I may be slightly distracted and more than a little hot under the collar when she exposes just a little more of her shapely calf through the sleek, almost mist like material. I believe that dress was made to be teasing, for it follows the line of body so perfectly - from the curve of her leg, to fullness of her hip, and the length of her back, scooping across her chest so I have just enough neck exposed to allow my desires to run riot.

I feel like a youth again, she makes me feel hot blooded and possessive, all those things that you are supposed to put behind you. Ada says that it is not right, or proper, to be controlled by your spirited desires. Although, I find that hard to swallow, hard to marry with the essence of who we are. Maybe ruling, and politics, possibly even battle, is easier or more defined when one can think logically and calculatedly around it...but love...and a mate? No, I am afraid it is something I cannot think logically about. I want to feel it, I am too curious and too bold for my own good. Yes there is a difference between love and passion, but unless you feel it how can you know for sure? I do not believe I know for sure myself. What I do know is simple...the heart wants what it wants. It feels right, it feels proper, and if it is a mistake or if I am being too hasty then so be it. I would rather risk it all than go on with regrets for the sake of opinion, besides when did I ever care for opinions? Seems pointless to break the habit of a lifetime now.

A slow smirk spreads across my lips, as I consider the uproar of my decision - taking an elleth of unknown origin as a wife - the council will be scandalised! Adar will probably not be able to look at me for a week straight - maybe a month if he is particularly difficult. Oh, and the neighbours...what will those haughty Noldor war mongers think? _Ha_...very little I'd imagine, or at the very least they might pass on a congratulatory note. As for Adar's Sindar acquaintances...well...if I am not already a black mark on their ever so spotless names, I surely will be now. Although it is not like she has even consented to pledge herself to me yet, nor is she even aware of my intent...this could backfire?

 _Hmm, perhaps you should calm yourself Thranduil, and just focus on actually asking her first! Because we all know how terribly eloquent you are with these sorts of things...note - do not threaten to hit someone again, that is not an attractive trait._

"Whomever you are arguing with, may I suggest that you go easy on them, it is not always their fault for being so unreasonable."

I twist my scowling expression towards the intruder, my eyes widening slightly at how easy Aradan picked up on my inner monologue. My ever jovial friend has his blonde head poked through the green fabric, grinning idiotically at me for added patronising effect.

"Oh do you shut up Aradan, I was enjoying my self loathing," I dead pan, only giving away a slight twitch of my lip to alert him to my jesting.

"You always had strange pastimes mellon nin," he sighs and slides in beside me, nosily shoving his regrettably large head in front of my line of vision. "What are you ogling from here? You do know this is a tad stalker-like...I mean I know you love your hunting, but guests are not practice targets dear Prince."

"Never use the sentiment _dear_ in relation to me again," I grumble and cross my arms about my chest. "And, I was not stalking I wa-"

"Aw, you were shamelessly lusting over your lady love," Aradan grins and waggles his eyebrows in the most absurd fashion. "Pity you cannot be more open about your affections, I would rather enjoy watching that Lindon elleth's face change at the sight of you _dancing_ with our lovely Clara again. Although, I am not certain she has many expressions other than, mildly disgusted and bored witless."

"You will find many Lindon elleth have alarmingly limited expressions, I assume it's their lack of intelligence," I reply nonchalantly, nodding my agreements with Aradan's assessments.

"Oh, _ouch_ , someone is feeling spiteful?" Aradan sniggers and tosses me a faux warning look. "I thought we were taking the high road - the past is in the past and all that?"

"What can I say, I hold grudges," I reply with a lazy shrug, before eyeing my overly concerned friend with a new curiosity, "did Clara send you to calm my frayed nerves?"

"Actually no, but I spied her give Ollie those worried eyes of hers and then Ollie glared at me until I figured it out on my own," Aradan admitted sheepishly, chancing a peek my direction. "That was rough mellon nin, I heard the parting sentiments two tables back."

"I am fine, I just had a fleeting flashback," I answer dismissively whilst maintaining a false sense of control...I'm not fine but I would rather not think about it.

"Maybe you should retire for the evening Thranduil," Aradan murmurs, his tone suddenly serious as the joking nature leaves him. "You need to give yourself a moment to recover from those attacks, you know it leaves you volatile."

"I am not going to hurt anyone," I half growl in my exasperation but I am only met with a pair of understanding eyes.

"You have never hurt anyone mellon nin, but you have hurt yourself," he reminds with much feeling, so much so that I cannot argue. I simply refuse to look at him. "But," he continues, holding his hand up peacefully, "if you think you are well then by all means enjoy the evening."

"I will," I snort dismissively and suppress a further scowl, after all he is only trying to be helpful - as usual.

A moment of tense silence passes...mostly on my part...and I glare indignantly at the happy couples all swirling around the Hall. All completely unaware of how fortunate they are not to have certain constraints laid upon them, for loving freely is fine among equals but not among Kings. Love is a curse - that is what Adar recalls, and I loathe him for it. He thinks love selfish and the cause of much pain. He still darkly condemns his love of my mother as the reason for her slow decay. I know he blames himself, but I find that heinous and a terrible crime, for I have only known my parents to be fiercely loyal and bonded to one another. Yet part of me wonders, did my father drive her away? Was his ambitions too much? I do not know why Naneth left, but I know she would never say it was her lack of love for my father. She has vowed on many occasions, that Oropher was her fate and she would change nothing...she would still always choose him and this life. But she still left, and _oh_ how I miss her! Her guidance would have been well received right now, she would have explained the best way for me to go about this. For how do I propose to Clara without dragging her into a world that could change her? And how exactly do I make my bitter Adar see this is a wise choice for me - not for politics or ambition - but for me and for Legolas?

 _Ai...this is giving me a headache...I need more wine._

"Word of advice my lord," Aradan quietly interjects my thoughtfulness, and places a hand on my shoulder. "If your heart and mind are clear, then do not waste time dithering over how best to introduce her. Your father will accept it in time, everyone will, but stop hiding...it's cowardly."

"Are you telling me what to do?" I ask in disbelief, my right eyebrow twitching upwards at his tone. "That is bold, even for you."

"Apologies my lord, but if it is any consolation, I am speaking on behalf of our people...hurry up and present Clara as your soon to be bride, or we all risk being subjected to more Ithril...no-one wants THAT!"

I turn fully to appraise an appalled Aradan - he really does look disgusted at the thought - and then I break out into a hearty laugh, which seems to radiate from the depths of my chest. My old friend begins to chuckle too, as the two of us embrace warmly.

"You have my word mellon nin, I will not subject any of you to another nightmarish Lindon lady," I promise boldly and twist away to gesture to Clara, who is all flailing limbs and musical laughter in the midst of the dancing crowd. "I am in love with another."

"Yes, and she is utterly in love with her life and the people here Thranduil," Aradan wisely adds, smiling fondly in Clara's direction. "You cannot go wrong with that."


	8. Chapter 8

**8\. Mid Winter Feast Part II**

It has been twelve minutes precisely. I have counted each second in my head just to be sure. Twelve long minutes that I have stood and stared at a wooden desk with its matching velvet trim chair - a vacant chair I hasten to add.

He walked out twelve minutes ago. Well, more so he stormed out and slammed the door behind him, which caused a shelf to fall and several books to clatter to the ground rather unceremoniously.

I may have caused that.

I may have lifted a book and threw it at the closed door after he left too.

In my defence his reaction was entirely overdramatic. It is not like I admitted to a secret union? I simply made my intentions clear. The abusive tirade I was verbally assaulted with was completely unnecessary. For once I wished he could have acted like my father instead of a King, for sometimes it would not hurt him to try.

My legs begin to buckle, and I cautiously outstretch my trembling hand to lean on the table. My head throbs with the tension of the passing argument. It was hot and vicious, with words spoken that probably should never be uttered in anger...but _I am_ angry. All the fury of the evenings events swarm around this place like a black cloud. Why tonight? Why my son...good Valar...why Clara? Does everyone that unintentionally gets embroiled in my life end up abused or shamed?

The muscles in my arms ache and shudder as I lock them down, because they feel like a bowstring - taut, ready to lash out in a moment. My hands ball into fists and I dig them into the wood of the desk. The want to tear the table apart, one plank of wood at a time, is almost too inviting. The only thing that stops me is her...the memory of her.

In the first instance she was there, drawing me back, begging me not to hit Ithril. Not out of compassion for her, not even out of glory for herself, but for me. She would stop me from disgracing myself...she risked much tonight.  
Without realising it, she just declared to my father, the guards, the remains of the guests, and a not to delightful Lindon elleth, that she does not fear me. No-one in their sane mind - except maybe my son - would have ever come between me and whoever my fury is directed at...but Clara did...and I listened. I gave us away by the simple mistake of clinging to her, I showed every single one of them my weakness...I'm in love with her. I am sure Adar was ready to cheerfully strangle me then and there. Well, I do have to cause a scene to make a declaration...you think he would be use to it by now.

With a defeated sigh, because I am too weary to argue anymore, I slump down into the chair behind me. The sun is up, and our folk are probably cleaning up most of last nights evidence.

Rumours will start to swirl, word will reach the ears of outlying farms... _the prince has banished another Lindon elleth..._ they would not be wrong.

If I could officially decree the end of relations between Lindon and ourselves I would, but politically it is a selfish move. I cannot inform a Noldo King that the only reason I detest him is because of the foolishness of his ellith. Only a weaker elf would be brought down by the insults of a lady...so maybe I am a weaker elf? Either way, I'd rather pour hot coals over my head then entertain another one of their social climbing, ungrateful, hot-headed, privileged, Noldor influenced, elleth. And I swear to Eru, the next elf that so much as touches my son in even slight irritation, I will break their bloody arm from their shoulders...and that includes my father!

All this involvement, a sea of strange faces, it's a miracle the child even calls me _Ada_ , I won't stand for it anymore! He is mine, he is my blood, I will raise him...not a Lindon tutor, nor my father, nor a nursemaid. Legolas needs stability; a family, a home, safety, other playmates, brothers and sisters, and I will secure that for him by whatever means possible...and Adar can just _deal with it!_

Angrily, I haul myself into standing and exit the private study. I cannot decide whether to seek out Adar again, or to let him stew in his anger, either way I am not changing my mind. I will take Clara as my wife, if she'll have me, and if he tries to block it I will simply unite with her without his blessing. The only blessing I need is my son's and I am almost confident he will have very few concerns about it, at least not absurd prejudiced ones.

I decide on leaving Adar to his stewing, and return to my chambers. I have work to do, so he can come find me when he is done grumbling like the cynical old fool he is!

However, on my return to my eerily quiet quarters, I barely have the door clicked closed when I register the utter chaos;

" _Oh good Elbereth..."_ I mumble under my breath, as I knock a few scrolls out of the way with the toe of my boot.

In the bright light of day my rooms suddenly reflect the real story of last nights tumultuous emotions. I carefully lean down to rectify a fallen chair, and pick up some scattered books too, only to find the ink pot has splattered all over the stone tiles. _Dammit, it dried into the rug! Well that will take a miracle from the Valar to get out._

Slowly I begin to put everything back into some sort of order. Marvelling as I go, at the passionate destruction Clara and I caused in the space of a few short minutes. Really? Am I that unrestrained?

I happen across a shattered clay plant pot, and bury my face in my hands at the shame before I start to titter gleefully...I am all too proud of myself. Proud that I was able to rein myself in and not cross a line with her, and proud because...well...obviously I showed her a good time.

I almost feel a little smug, but only just a little. It was not right to take advantage of her like this, and it certainly was vile of me to not be more cautious. She has been running in and out my rooms for weeks. I never stopped to contemplate how that looked to Adar, or anyone else for that matter. It was all innocent; I adored her company and her thoughtful conversation, and that lyrical brogue that amuses me every time she tries to converse with me in our tongue. What a mess I have landed us in...again...honestly, I should come with a written warning; _please be aware this elf is prone to acts of extreme idiocy, engage at your own peril!_

In my rifling and sorting - in between a colourful array of inner monologue rants - I find the sheer material of the outer layer of Clara's dress wrapped around the leg of the table. Swiftly I fold it up and hide it at the bottom of a chest, before stepping back and staring at it as if I have just hidden a murder weapon. _What happened to me?_ Since when did an elleth ever cause me to fret and fuss until I could barely think in straight lines, or for that matter keep them at a comfortable distance! She's everywhere; in my head, on my skin, her sent filling my nose, and her fingerprints all over my room...and me!

The memory of her _fea_ burns too fiercely, it's too close...I let her get too close too fast. I am letting her heal me, and she does not even know it. A bond has already been struck between us, and I will never be able to revoke this one...

... _oh Thranduil, you foolish elfling!_

xXx

After a mornings worth of cleaning, both myself and my quarters, because I am _not_ having a servant see that devastation - I would like to keep the rumours to a healthy minimum. I spend the afternoon adhering to any tasks and monotonous paperwork that is sadly gathering dust in the far hidden depths of my study. I keep my mind focused, I daren't think of Clara or what is going to unravel from this. If Adar will not talk to me by nightfall I will go to her myself and bring her here. I hope it does not come to that, but my mind is made up.

By evening, the sun is warming my homes' dark corners and I eventually dare to leave my rooms. I have not saw a soul all day and I am beginning to feel the effects of my forced house arrest...I cannot imagine how Clara is feeling...this is ridiculous.

I ease down the staircases, listening to the sound of voices emanating from the communal quarters.

Like a terribly guilty elfling, I pop my head through the doors and scope out my surroundings. Thankfully I find Oliel and my son occupying the main lounge, playing with blocks painted by Clara. It should be her here with him, I do not like the unfamiliarity of this scene, and by the looks of the hard eyes Legolas hits me with...he doesn't like it either.

" _Ion nin_?" I query timidly as I move cautiously into the room, clasping my hands firmly behind my back and painting a very fake grin on my face. "Did you miss me?" I push and begin to feel a little frantic when he turns his angered gaze from me, and continues building his grand fort. He always greets me...this is unheard of...what did I do? I need Clara, I can't fix this, she would know what to say.

"I think Legolas is a little tired," Oliel quickly chimes in, standing to her feet and pretending to brush off nonexistent soot from her dress. She fidgets with herself for a bit before giving me a forced smile; "After all he has had a very trying night, and today has been an adjustment for him."

I open my mouth but no words find there way out. Guilt floods through me, and I feel my skin prickle in a shameful heat.

I left him...I left him here to be tended by servants! I left him alone after last nights drama whilst I huffed in my rooms, and haughtily stood my ground. Oh, in my head I was just doing the best for him, I was holding out, making his Grandfather suffer when I should have been here. Clara would be utterly ashamed of me, she accepted her punishments so as not to hurt Legolas...and I just selfishly sulked over it all. Adar is right, I am self-centred and deeply selfish. I want things on my own terms, but I do not care for them when I have them...I can hear his irritating voice rabbiting on in my ear.

"I don't want Ada to stay," Legolas commands, his little voice cracking under unshed tears. "Ada should go away now...please." He inhales a heartbreaking sob, and I nearly fall to the floor with his fearful plea.

He asked me nicely to leave, even in his anger he won't lose his temper. My son is twice the elf I will ever be.

"My lord," Oliel stretches out her hands peacefully, obviously expecting me to be furious at the boy. "He does not mean it, he is just upset...he wants Clara and I am afraid no one else will do."

"I do mean it," Legolas corrects Oliel, as he wanders around the sofa to stand defiantly before me. He barely comes to my hip, but I have never felt more powerless. "I do not want you Ada, I want Clara."

"I know, I know you do child," I soothe and outstretch my hand to rest it on his head, but he jerks away from me, his eyes turning cold and hard.

"No!" He cries and swats my hand away. "You made her go away. You make everyone go away...I-I-I _hate_ you... _I want you to go away!"_

"Legolas..." My voice cracks as I kneel by him, outstretching my arms uselessly as he backs away from me. "You do not mean that ion nin...Legolas? Legolas, please, I did not send her away...I promise I did-"

"No, I don't believe you!" He shrieks back with so much fury that I feel like I've been staked with a spear. "You let that horrible lady come here, you took her to the feast instead of Clara, you let her say those mean things. Go away Ada...I don't want you, I want Clara!"

" _Legolas,"_ I barely get his name out before he whips out of my grasp, and through the doors that lead to the garden.

He pushes them open in time to be met by his Grandfather, who kneels down to hold him. Legolas cries bitterly into my father's chest and it grinds my very insides to see him comfort my son, when it was him that caused this separation. Yes I am to fault in all those ways my son so eloquently described, but his Grandfather is not innocent either.

Oliel is summoned by a beckoning look from her King, and she quickly removes the distressed child from the room. Adar rises to his feet to stare questioningly at me, as I sit slumped on my knees on the cold floor, wrestling with the hurt caused by a child...my child... _this is wrong!_

"What happened?" Adar demands as I work to swallow back the most uncomfortable lump in my throat.

" _How dare you,"_ I hiss through gritted teeth.

"Pardon?" Adar's voice raises slightly, as it does when I challenge him.

" _That is my son_ ," I growl and stagger to my feet, striding towards him in my fury. "He is mine, not yours, _mine_! So do not dare pin this on me. Don't you even consider blaming the absence of yet another familiar figure in his life on me!"

"You will cool your heels Thranduil, I am not above lashing you for disobedience," his tone is unruffled and threatening...I believe him.

"Then do it," I challenge, squaring myself up to him, my temper flaring wildly as I stand at least a few inches taller. "Punish me for falling in love, for finding a mate...Eru knows I probably deserve it."

"Love? A mate? Do you even understand those things child," Adar evenly replies, as he barely riles to my threatening stance. "Do you know what it is like to be so profoundly connected to another that every breath they take in is what keeps your heart beating? That you feel every pulse of their life as if it were your own? Have you felt that son? Have you carried the pieces of their broken soul in yours and watched them wane away, knowing with complete certainty that when they breathe their last you will die with them...have you done that? Have you tasted the bitterness of not belonging to yourself Thranduil? I do not believe you have, because if you did you would know that there is a sting to the joy and a curse to the blessing."

"I would rather have the choice be mine than yours!" I snarl, spinning away from him as the thoughts claw into my heart. Am I ready to cease existing for only me? It was not like that with Bregeth we were never truly unified in heart and spirit, but I have felt Clara's _fea_ and it will solder me to her completely, and I like that,I want to go willingly. But if I lost her? If that light went out? It does not bear thinking about...it is too heinous.

"But it is not just your choice," adar interrupts, his voice cracking slightly with some kind of emotion I'm not prepared to discover, because I've stopped looking at him. "You are the only suitable heir to this Kingdom. Your son is an infant and we have no queen. Every choice you make effects all of this," he gesticulates wildly around the room, before pointing towards me. "Do not be a fool ion nin, if you love the girl let her go...this is no place for her. This world is too dangerous."

"No," I half whimper at the cutting suggestion - I don't want her to go. "No Ada, I will not live in this solitude...in this loneliness because it is wise. That may be what you desire, what soothes your guilt over whatever end came of you and Naneth, but it is not me. Call me selfish,jealous, possessive even, but I would rather be that than push all I claim to love away for the sake of ambition and good sense."

I hit a nerve.

I hit a very raw nerve, because the sting of the back of his hand sends a painful jolt through my left cheek. The sensation is wrong, it doesn't sting for most of the nerves are deadened, but it felt hallow. A shuddering thud against false skin with nothing of any substance beneath it. Before I can register the hurt he yanks my collar, twisting me to face him, and forcing me to look into his betrayed eyes.

"I never pushed her away, there was never an ending," his voice lowers to an almost overwhelmed murmur, like he is trying to convince himself. "Do you not see...look in my eyes Thramduil...look in them and tell me is this what you want to risk?"

I struggle and I wrestle with the simple action of looking in his eyes. It suddenly dawns on me that I have not truly looked at him since Nana left. He hid for months when she sailed, he barely ate, he hardly spoke, and he never seemed to look upon me in the same way since. Gilron told me it was because I reminded him too much of her, and in time he would come around but he never did. Things improved with the arrival of his Grandson, and I specifically named him 'Legolas' in my attempt to hold onto a memory. I had hoped such a homage would mend things, and it did in some ways. But yet I still have never looked properly at him, I never wanted to see because there was a suffering in him that was too uncomfortable to feel. Now, as he forces me to perceive it, I see the fragments of a soul and it is pitiful to behold. So distressing that I cannot hold his gaze, and I cast my eyes to the floor.

"You cannot imagine the pain I have suffered, and I _never_ want you to feel it, I would not even wish it on my greatest enemy," Ada tells me in a defeated voice. "If you feel for this elleth, even a fraction of what I felt for your mother, then there will be no escaping a bond that such a love will create."

"It is too late," I answer quietly, as I tear my eyes from his and fidget uncomfortably with my sleeve. A weighted silence ensues, and I practically bend under it. I can feel the indignation flare in my father, so I offer up the only excuse I can give; "I...reached too far...I have already felt her _fea_. I was curious, I could not stop myself, she was hurting...I didn't realise what I had done until it was too late."

"You fool!" Adar growls and shoves me forcefully out of the way, stopping to point a threatening finger; "You knew what you were doing from the beginning, you are no naive youth! You saw something pretty and unique, and you pursued it. Always blinded by beautiful things...Thranduil you have a sickness!"

"Yes," I answer in a dull voice as I run a hand over my face and neck. "Yes I am ill Ada. I am wrong and artificial...everything feels hallow...I feel hallow. I have gaping holes everywhere, and my spirit is so badly punctured I do not remember who I was before. Do you know how that feels?"

Ada visibly cringes and looks away as I purposely tug at the paternal bond we share. Tears spring to his eyes, and mine also - if I were being honest. I do not want to let him feel it, I do not want him to remember, but he has to understand;

"They will never restore me Ada, not how you remember, and I am truly sorry," I tell him in the most sympathetic voice I can muster. "I wish I could have my life back as it was but it is gone, but not entirely lost. I am living because of her. I was ready to die, I was quite happy to, and you know this. You cannot deny, that for the length of time Clara has been with us that I have not improved beyond the hope of most healers. She fills in these gaping voids with just her presence. Ada, she does not even flinch at the sight of me...and look at me!" I point to the false skin and the long knitting scars, and I feel my voice catch in remembrance of how she touched them without fear or disgust. She put her lips to this mangled body and breathed life into it...why cannot he not see this?

"I know there is duty," I sigh sadly, when I realise my emotional plea elicited no reaction from my father. So I decide to speak on plainer terms, terms that he might understand; "And I know there is loyalty, and responsibilities and expectations, but please...just this once...acknowledge the fact that I am making the right decision for me, and my son."

"And what of the Kingdom? How do your people factor into this?" Adar pushes, his tone frosty but I hear a defeated edge to his voice that sparks my hope.

"They factor into everything Ada, I would not be standing here in this mess if I did not love them." I affirm with a resolute nod, for it is true. "If you want me to rule them someday then is it not wiser for a King to have a Queen that fulfils him, than one whom he cannot trust with his vulnerabilities?"

"It takes more than a good and caring wife to make a Queen," Adar snaps viciously, with his angered gaze not leaving the stone floor.

I feel my shoulders sag under the weight of this constant struggle. We are pushing and pulling at each other for what? The final say...to be right...to never submit to each other? This is illogical. Clara may not be the queen he envisions, but she is the elleth I would have at my side over all the others. I would trust her with my very life, for there is not a corrupted bone in her body. She would never betray us...at least I believe she couldn't.

"You cannot keep us apart Ada," I say in a quiet but sure voice, and when his eyes flick up to meet mine with a building fury, I match it and more; "You _will not_ keep us apart. If you even try you would lose me...you would lose your heir...for if you will not allow this then I refuse to rule."

"Do not be absurd!" He spits aggressively and points threateningly towards the doors he entered. "You would abdicate in favour of your son...you are selfish Thranduil but so much that you would place such a burden on a child."

"Let me rephrase my statement," I reply darkly, my jaw tightening with the words. "I refuse to rule and I refuse to let you have any power or say over my life, or the life of my child. However, if you do not stand in the way of this, then I will happily continue to serve you and my people...as long as Clara is by my side. These are my terms your Majesty, consider them carefully."

And with a curt bow, I sweep out of the room and go in search of Legolas to make amends. I hear my King bellow after me to return but I will not obey. He needs me more than I need him, and if wants to play politics...well, I can drive a hard bargain too.

* * *

 **A/N: Hey guys i'm back...with some material for you to read...lots and lots of chapters :)**

 **Hope you are all keeping well and happy thanksgiving to all of you xox**


	9. Chapter 9

**9\. Mid Winter Feast Part II**

There is always a look that someone gives - often just a slight movement - that gives them away. The tightening of a jaw, the purse of lips, the sideways glance, or the dilation of pupils. These are the things I've become quick in noting with others, I don't know why? I assume it is because you learn very early on, in these positions of power, that lying becomes a way of life.

Generally, little lies or cover-ups are insignificant. If I'm bored or feeling particularly irked over an insult to my intelligence, I'll pursue the matter. Mostly I just carry on my way, suffice to know that I see through such petty things. However, once in awhile something comes to light, and by just the look of another your insides start to crawl and bile rises in your throat. It is safe to say in those moments you'd rather the lie they told be the truth, than see beyond it, because fear is an awful weakness...

* * *

 ** _3416 SA - Halls of the King, Greenwood_**

"What do you mean, she's not there? Where else would she be?"

"I am sorry my lord, I-I-I...um...was passing...and I-I...er...heard him crying. S-she wasn't there."

Every soul in the room was silent, excluding the baby in Oliel's arms, whom she rocked much to aggressively to be calming. His cries were pitiful at this point...weak and lonely...it was an all to honest picture of our lives.

My eyes danced across the lines of strange and familiar faces. The faces of my own folk held an aura of betrayal, sympathy, and maybe even slight embarrassment for me...though they all tried to conceal it. The Lindon traders on the other hand...well...stoic faces coupled with wide eyes and tightening jaws spoke to me of a hidden agenda.

There were eight seats in total for our guests, but only six were filled. Apologies had been offered for their absences; they were weary from the journey and one was sporting an injury after a toss from his horse. I knew those excuses felt like lies, but I had not pushed the issue, I had no reason too...until now.

"Let us adjourn for the evening," Raffyn offered quietly, standing to his feet and rifling through trade papers. "Lord Galour, would you be so kind as to-"

"Where are your absent associates?" I snapped a little too harshly, leaning across the table intimidatingly; "one of them is my wife's cousin...where are they?"

There was no response for a few seconds, only frantic looks. The only thing prompting them was the adamant wail of my son. The sound made them fluster, and it made me flinch more visibly than I intended.

" _For the love of Eru_...Oliel take him outside and pacify him!" I growled and she leapt clean out of her skin before rushing out the door, her face flushed and tears pricking her eyes.

"I will not ask you all again, where are your missing members and was the Princess with them?"

"No my lord," one eventually piped up, but he would not meet my gaze. "No we do not believe the lady Bregeth to be wi-"

"I am no fool!" I bit back, my fist colliding with the desk. "Bregeth is vulnerable and homesick at the best of times, now, let's try this again...where are your associates?"

"They spoke of sampling the wine," another bravely and cryptically responded. He met my glare with an equally disapproving look. I could tell he knew more than he intended to share, and that he was unhappy with their absence. At last, a half decent elf among a company of snakes.

"Raffyn?" I barely grumbled his name, as I stared threateningly into each of the eyes of our guests.

"I will send out a search party this instant," he replied placing a hand to my shoulder, "do not fear your highness, we will find her."

"Search the main cellars...if they wished to sample our wine they probably should have started there," I answered coldly before circling my hand above my head dismissively, "OUT...all of you out!"

The room emptied instantly, elves tripping over themselves to get out the door without inadvertently gaining my attention. I waited for a moment, working through the various doubts and scenarios that swirled within my vivid imagination regarding Bregeth. I feared for her wellbeing, and at least more than once I had visited healers regarding her withdrawal from court, from her duties, from our son. None of it felt right, and I reckoned she had never spent this long away from her home before. Separating her from her family and people must have been hard, I cannot imagine I would have coped well with such restrictions. Yet, my instincts flared - the coldness, her indifference, her voicing her thoughts that she had completed her duty towards me. Like she was disregarding me, like I was no longer an issue she needed to deal with. Such thoughts were cutting.

A baby's wail cut through the stillness of the room again. The sound was instinctually upsetting, so I stormed out of the suffocating room to follow the sound. In my fuming state I found Oliel trying vainly to pacify my son, and in my anger I ripped him from her arms.

"Are you entirely incompetent," I hissed as I eased his little body against my chest, resting his flailing head against my chin. "He is cold...honestly your stupidity is astounding! Did you not think of wrapping him up?"

"His sheets were wet," she squeaked, tears springing fourth again as her cheeks flushed. "I had to change them, I have no experience with elflings I just knew he needed attention from a parent - I sent for Nana-"

" _Good Valar Oliel!_ Why do you not just rouse the whole Kingdom next time his mother is missing!" I had not intended to rant, or to be so unnecessarily rude to her. She was my friend, and she was a high ranking servant. She deserved much better than my wrath, especially when the anger was only a projection of my own fear...my own incompetencies.

Oliel had fled from my temper, promising to send Gilron as soon as she arrived and apologising for the upset. Still to this day I feel so horrid about my attitude. If it was not for her discovery that night Eru knows how long I would have remained in the dark, coddled by lies.

I knew - I just knew the truth, when Raffyn timidly entered our home again, wearing a look that mingled outrage and sympathy. Adar had pounced on him immediately, thrusting him into the shadows to speak in hushed tones. I stayed put, by the heat of the fire, cautiously watching my slumbering elfling.

Gilron gently rocked him in his cradle, crooning something familiar as she brushed his golden curls from his rosy cheeks. He was warm and dry now, content and well fed. I could not leave him, not in his hysteria. I'd never felt panic like it when he wouldn't settle. No-one teaches you these things, no one ever tells you how utterly terrifying a screaming infant can be...and I knew fear, just not this fear. This was a powerless fear, a deep set panic that you have done something horrifically wrong. Had I driven Bregeth to flea in my anger or indifference towards her pain? Had I not given her all the support she needed in my absences? Maybe I expected to much of her to raise Legolas alone, maybe I should have insisted upon more help? I just thought we were managing. Neither of us proclaimed to be family inclined, I was expecting teething problems, stress and general difficulties, but I never ever expected her to run.

"He will be alright," Gilron tells me in her motherly tone, that soft decibel that reminds me of Naneth and her assured strength. "No harm done that a little love and attention cannot fix."

"I cannot do this alone," I suddenly hear myself ramble, like the thought of having to be entirely responsible for Legolas was just too overwhelming; "If Bregeth can't or won't care for him, Gilron, I do not have the time or the skill."

"Well," she answers me as she raises off the floor, levelling me with a serious glare; "you will just have to learn."

"He needs a mother, an elleth at least - someone with a softer touch," I defend myself, trying to rationalise my escape; "What can I do? I can't even settle him when he cries...no, he needs a nursemaid. I will arrange something."

"Thranduil Oropherion!" Gilron barks in that manner that used to make me go rigid and pale - for a severe scolding or slap across the ear nearly always followed such a firm voice. It is slightly amusing that as an adult I still flinched in expectation.

"This is not something you arrange, an elfling is not an imposition on your life! You do not alter their lives to suit yours. He is your responsibility, and if his mother is incapable of caring for him - then you _do it!"_

I almost pouted liked a petulant child, but she was right, Gilron was always right...even Nana knew that. I had wanted to argue that I was not just an average elf, I wanted to whine that most new father's do not have a kingdom to maintain and an army to run. I did not have time for incompetence or laziness on Bregeth's part, the child needed dealt with. But, there was an annoying ache in my chest, a twinge in the back of mind, and a rather heavy feeling in my gut... _that_ child was _my_ child...when did I become so irresponsible?

There were no other words between Gilron and I, at least none that needed to be spoken aloud. I suppose, when I reflect back, this was when I acknowledged what I was to Legolas. He was blissfully unaware of the family he had been born into, and neither was he wholly concerned about what that meant for him or his parents. To him - Bregeth and I - we were his security. I guess I was in dire need of being reminded of that, and yes it was overwhelming, and for a fleeting moment I had hoped that was the only reason Bregeth had ran...but such notions are for fools.

By the time Adar was through questioning Raffyn, I knew things were suspicious. When the advisor came to stand before me - Ada a step behind - his eyes were downcast, his mouth twisted into a painful grimace, and when he eventually looked at me...well, I had taken a blow to the chest with a sledgehammer once...that was less painful than the anger and pity in his eyes.

I listened, expressionless, as he carefully picked out the words that would condemn Bregeth. How she had been caught in a compromising position with this Lindon merchant - something just beyond flirtation apparently. For the first several moments I worked out how I was to avoiding spilling the contents of my stomach on the floor in front of everyone. The bile sat rather uncomfortably in my throat, and I know I had flushed the most undignified of colours. They all probably assumed it was rage at first, but it was not. The first thought was truly shame, and utter failure. So much shame that I wanted to calliopes under the weight of it.

It was an entirely self absorbed moment. I was prince, a famed warrior, idolised, and admired...and now I was betrayed by my wife...I could not hold the attentions of an elleth. It was degrading, disgusting, laughable really. If the news had been against some other noble Lord I probably would have a great chuckle at their expense, tease them about their incompetence, and parade my line of adoring ellith before them carelessly. But here I was, one of the unfortunate ellyn, stripped of all dignity by a careless act...my inflated ego really could not process the injustice.

That was when the rage set in.

It was a fleeting rage, tempered by the fact that Adar was quite firm in the command that I would not stoop so low as to violently disfigure the ellon that had caused more embarrassment than this farce of a union. I was also reminded, by the startled whimper of my son, that I had responsibilities. Responsibilities that Bregeth was content ignoring, and that anger brought with it a terrible regret but an even clearer mind. Suddenly my bruised ego fell secondary to the flaming hatred I felt for this elleth. It was low and vile for her actions to affect me, but not his. That was our son, and by the Valar she would never set eyes on him again for this.

Before anyone else could order me how to react, I took my son and I hid. I hid because I could not bear the thought of seeing the pity in Gilron's eyes, or the questionable glances shared between servants, because how was I supposed to raise a child alone? It was not as if I was blessed with a warm and soft persona, no, I'd likely fail but I was certain I would put fourth a better attempt than his indifferent mother!

* * *

 ** _Present Day: Halls of the King_**

"What do you mean? How in all of Arda do you lose an elfling in less than an hour?"

"He was here...I left him here for a moment...I turned my back and he was gone!"

"Good Eru Ollie! You never turn your back on him!"

" _I am not his parent!"_

Well, that was the end of my argument. After all it was not Oliel's position to care for Legolas whilst his Grandfather and I went at each other's throats! No, she was right, I was the child's parent...and doing a botched job of it so far...as usual!

After I had calmed down enough from my spiteful exit from Adar, I went to retrieve Legolas. I wasn't exactly sure how I was going to fix the rift between us but I was determined to try. However when I rounded the corner and straight into a flustered Oliel, I knew something was wrong. I saw the signs, and when she eventually stuttered out that Legolas had vanished, I felt like I had been cracked across the chest with that sledgehammer all over again.

It seems to be my knee jerk reaction to have the final say with most things - an argumentative trait I probably picked up from my mother - but with Oliel's last statement, what just argument did I have? The boy was confused, upset, and alone, whilst I seemed intent on causing a holy war with everyone and everything! The realisation of his absence was the sharp clout to the back of the head that I needed. Suddenly everything seemed superfluous, and so I did what every fearful parent does...I ran in a completely directionless path in a blind panic.

I took the servants stairwell at three steps at a time, until I reached the last staircase, at which point I vaulted it and came nose to nose with Raffyn and a burly looking guard. I skittered back a few steps and glared fiercely, I wasn't in the mood for stupidity right now.

"You are not permitted to see the servant elleth my lord, it is the King's orders," Raffyn coolly reminds, his stern features remaining as stoic as ever.

"Yes! But I am not here for Clara, I am here for Legolas," I snap impatiently, because I have come to the only logical conclusion; Legolas has took the initiative and went looking for his beloved friend without assistance. I have to hand it to the boy, he is more persistent than I ever was.

"Legolas?" Raffyn queries in confusion, his brow furrowing as his head tilts and his jaw tightens. "I have not seen the child, and he is not with the elleth, she is detained."

I curse loudly, making both Raffyn and the guard flinch, because I think my voice split through a shrill octave.

I begin to pace, in much too tight circles, my heart rate accelerating as I vainly try to _not_ get myself into a fluster. Legolas is somewhere, he cannot have gotten that far, and yet I know those faces. The faces of elves who would attempt to console me with a useless lie, because my instinct was to panic as I tried to ward off the crashing guilt again. Why was I always failing at this? My inadequacy was glaringly obvious!

"Maybe he is in the garden?" Raffyn suggests weakly, his eyes shifting uneasily and his voice teetering off at the end. "I shall go look."

"Wait!"

The startled voice of the guard clean makes me leap in surprise, even Raffyn jumps and turns to glower unhappily.

"Wait? For what?" Raffyn asks in irritation and I begin to twitch at this ellon's lack of speedy reply. I am practically willing him to answer.

"Two messengers arrived less than an hour ago to leave word for his majesty, that they would be leaving soon with the offending elleth," he tells me much too slowly and I sort of half shake my head at him in a bemused fashion...what has Ithril got to do with... _oh valar!_

"He thinks they are leaving with Clara," I hiss and leap for the stairs again. "Did you see them leave? Did you see if my son followed them?"

"No my lord," he admits weakly, paling a little when I shoot him an exasperated look. "B-but they left for the stables, I know the company intend to leave from there. It's a quiet exit for a disgraced noble lady, apparently she is entitled to that privilege."

"I could not care less how that disgraced inbred leaves this Kingdom," I call back towards the two flustered looking elves, as I climb the stairs faster than I descended them. "My son is what matters, thank you for your vigilance."

Before much else can be said or done, I dart up the sets of stairs, along the hallways, and out the doors at break neck speed - which considering my injuries - is rather impressive.

The City is a busy hive of organised chaos as usual. There are faces everywhere; servants, traders, nobles, children, everyone but who I need to find. The passageways that lead to the stable courtyards are filled with ellyn, all caught up in their day's tasks, bantering with fellow warriors and young squires, and my explosive arrival is not met with enthusiasm.

If I'm not shoving the useless idiots sideways, when they don't move quick enough, I'm hollering in their ears, demanding they tell me where my boy is! After several hassled minutes of frustration, I suddenly come to the conclusion that no-one has saw Legolas because; firstly, he is about the height of a hare, and secondly, he is just as fast as one! These bumbling lugs would not have wits sharp enough to catch him... _ugh_ , _he is just like his bloody mother!_

"Thranduil! What are you doing here?"

 _At last..._ somebody helpful!

"Aradan! Aradan have you seen Legolas?" I pant breathlessly, as I slide to halt at his feet, throwing out my arms to brace myself against his shoulders; "I think he overheard the guards discussing Ithril's exit...I think he thinks it they are sending away."

" _Valar...Thranduil...they've left!"_ Aradan gasps and spins to glance out towards the bustling stable courtyard. My gaze follows his and I spy the open gate... _I am going to kill him!_

"Stay here," he commands and I snort in disgust...yes, that's likely. "There will be a better view from the ramparts. He cannot have gone that far alone...Thranduil... _Thrandul_ what part of _stay_ do you not understand?"

"Shut up Aradan!" I call back towards him as I reach the gate and point up towards the rampart. "Just get up there and guide me!"

 _"Bloody Princes!"_ I hear him whinge in exasperation, and I resist the urge to stop and throw something blunt at his head... _idiot!_

The forest is tranquil, it's relaxed and sleepy tones are the first feeling that hits me when I race through the gate and into the free air. I sway unintentionally, because it's wild spirit automatically pacifies mine...it does not like that I have disturbed its contentedness. To wake it up would be to entice it's wrath, for I am nothing but a guest in its realm...or at least this is the flavour of the warning that I taste in my _fea._

But I am not just a guest!

Forcefully I remind the forest's spirit of who it threatens. We are kin...it and I...our bond is a natural one, I was born into it and I am it's son...so it can awaken enough to find mine!

The roots of the trees stretch under foot, the earth vibrates, the sensation would be entirely indiscernible to anyone but me. The breeze weaves through the leaves...the forest is communing...the wildness in my spirit stirs. It's a hard sensation to temper, it has always been difficult to control. Nana always warned me to remember the things of the heart, for emotion and attachments keep us connected to reality. Our wild spirits, if left unfettered, would leave us in a constant state of instinct - for there is little emotion behind instinct.

I hold tightly to the bond I share with Legolas...it is real...there is love in it. I sense the spirit of the forest inspect that bond, it curiously considers it...it is an amusing thing to the wild...but it recognises it. The voices of the trees begin to hum together through the leaves and bare branches.

... _Greenleaf...blood of Daughterleaf...borne fourth of the son of Spring...our kin...our kin...West...the Leaf blew West...too quick for Spring to catch...go West...go West Spring...go West to snare our little leaf..._

Instinctually I cut West, for I have learned that one does not ignore the voices of the trees, for they may speak in riddles but they are never wrong.

True enough, some fifty yards in a westward direction I pick up tracks. Barely discernible footfalls on dry ground. The shape of an elfling's boot is clear, and the breeze knocks me with a nose full of a familiar scent...my scent...and her's...not his mother by blood but by claim...at least that is how the wild sees it. I cannot argue with its logic...it is only instinct.

I leap over a fallen tree, its roots still clinging to the earth so half of it still breathes with life whilst the other slowly decays into rotten holes. There is something deeply familiar and unsettling about its image - a carcass with a heart - don't I look like that? Am I that useless?

As if to contradict me the branches of the fallen tree twist and groan in the breeze, and with it comes a soft whimper. The tree is crying...now that is illogical...even for me!

I pause, staring quizzical over the great trunk, part of it hallow and gaping. The half-living tree sobs again, and the very hairs on my neck stand in registration.

I return to the fallen oak, and ease along its trunk with the lightest of steps...testing the hallow from the whole. Eventually I prowl over a collapsed side of the flaking bark, were the last of the fall leaves have gathered in a decaying mound. Instinctually I stretch into the warm yet wounded hallow, and to my utter relief my hands seize around the scruff of my elfling.

Plucking him out of the rot, I unceremoniously toss the child on the soft earth beneath us, the cold light illuminating his pale and frightened features. A feral growl escapes me in my panic as I leap from the deadened tree to corner him. I don't know whether to kill him or kiss him...either way I want to smother him. _Stupid child - stupid, reckless, stubborn child!_

 _"A-a-d-da..."_ He chatters as he shuffles away from me, his back hitting a boulder, his little frame trembling like the fragile little leaf he is.

" _What...what where you thinking!"_

It was not a question and he knew that. I watched him coil into the cold moss covered rock, tears springing to his eyes...little innocent eyes so full of fright.

" _You do not leave!"_ I hiss and snatch him from the ground, clawing him close, hiding him from sight. He is too small, too young, anything could take him... _stupid child!_

My heart is flooded with relief, and the panic eventually ebbs. The horrendous scenarios of the animals that could have picked an elfling off, or the treacherous terrain that could break him begin to ease, and are replaced with more logical thoughts. That instinctual bond between my son and I, that was suddenly the forefront of all my thoughts, starts to thrum peacefully again.

He is here...he is safe... _protected_.

I run the fingers of my right hand through the lengths of his hair, using my left to hold him tight to my side. These things, these normal sensations - touch - that is more than instinct, more than the wild. My body will not recoil, my mind and spirit conflict between rational intelligence and survival instinct. I _hate_ this...to feel something between beast and being. Naneth warned me it was a hard route, a complicated balance - ' _to be one of the forest yet not, is both curse and blessing_ ,' that is what she said...she was right.

"I-I-I g-got l-l-lost," Legolas stutters, his voice muffled and lost as I nearly suffocate him. I want him close, he is mine...not the possession of elves or the wild...my blood.

... _Our kin's kin...Greenleaf belongs to tree and root...free as the wind that carries us West..._

I bristle, suppressing a warning snarl... _Not West...he belongs to me...the West does not hold claim on him yet._ The musical notes of the forest almost sound amused by my warning, so I kneel down to him and hold him close... _I need him...please lay no claim on him...not West._

"Ada...Ada are y-you crying?" He asks clearly, his finger outstretching to touch my cheek. I blink and suddenly the hold of the forest's spirit does not run so deep. I practically wilt in relief.

"Legolas," I barely breathe out as I rest my brow against his, "why did you leave?"

"I wanted to bring Clara back," he murmurs and drops his gaze guiltily. "They were talking about taking the outsider back to her home...I thought they had found Clara's home...Ada you have to stop them. She does not want to go back, she wants to stay with us, you have to let her stay!"

"She will stay!" I brashly interrupt in my frustration, and the boy jumps clean out of his skin. "She never left Legolas, it was Ithril that was sent away. You should not be so presumptuous child, have you no sense? _Think Legolas, think_ before you run into danger... _what_ would I have done if I lost you? _You cannot leave...you mustn't leave me."_

"I-I-I am s-sorry," he begins to sob again, reaching to throw his arms around my neck. I pull him into me, and come to stand, letting his tears stain my shoulder. I doubt he understood the depth of my words, and how to my ears they sounded more like pleading. I would rather die than lose him, and if I have to die to keep him safe, to keep him here...I will.

"Hush," I soothe quietly and stroke his hair, "there is no need for this...none at all."

"I want to see Clara," he mumbles out between sobs, and my heart begins to weigh in my hallow chest. I am no comfort to him, I am only the source of his anxiety.

"I promise you will," I sigh and press a kiss to his cheek. "I promise I will make this right _ion-nin_ , please just give me time... _I promise."_

xXx

Legolas fell silent in my arms by the time we reached home, he was not sleeping but he was weary. I felt his silence keenly, like a relentless punishment for my selfish crimes. He should never have to suffer because of my desires, but he has and I doubt such things are inevitable. Especially when he is the offspring of Kings.

Adar was waiting for us, and he was pale and weak by the time we met on the threshold of my chambers. His hair was strewn messily, his eyes heavy, his features temporarily aged.

I only stared at him.

"Is he well? There was no harm?" Adar whispers his eyes filling with guilt. I simply shake my head as I step around him and place Legolas on the settee closest to the fire, pulling a felt rabbit from the table and wiggling it playfully in front of him. He smiles, and reaches for the toy - the gesture makes my heart stutter painfully.

"Thranduil, I-" Adar begins, but I hold up my hand to silence him before pointing to the hallway. He dutifully obliges and I drag after him with about as much enthusiasm as a snail.

"Whatever apology you want to make I really do not need to hear it," I mutter as I gingerly close over the door, purposefully keeping my voice as quiet as I can.

"But you do," he pushes and wrings his hands nervously. "Thranduil, I never meant to drive a wedge between you and your son...I acted too quickly and on too swift an emotion."

"You acted cruelly," I snap and resist spewing out all my reasons why, "whatever reason, it means little now."

"Of course it matters, I do not understand?" Adar almost groans in frustration, as he begins to rub his temple.

"The only thing that matters is him," I almost growl as I point beyond the door. "Only both of us fail to remember that, between ruling kingdoms and conquests of the heart, that child has been forgotten. I did not bring him into this world to be nothing more than an asset to you, to me, or any damn Lord for that matter."

"He has a birthright-"

"Not while I am alive," I say coldly, my posture stiffening. "I would give up my life for him, in a heartbeat, but I would also give up my childish whims in order to rule so he never has to...so he never knows these shackles."

"Would you give up the elleth?" Adar's voice is challenging, but I was prepared for this.

"Would you give up your ideals to allow your Grandson the mother he needs?" The question takes him off guard, and he scowls defensively. "All arguments aside, taking both our desires out of this...you cannot deny the love she has for him, and he for her. I cannot part them, it is what is best for him."

"I will not recognise her as royalty Thranduil," Adar warns and I just shake my head in defeat, I cannot argue with someone so unwilling to listen. "She is hiding something, you are being foolish with your heart _ion_ , but it is your heart and not mine. I will not stand in the way of your desires to wed the elleth, and be advised it is only because I love my grandson that I will bear this. But, mark my words Thranduil, you do not know her...will you be able to live with another betrayal? If she is attached to Legolas you will never be able to get away from the shame, she will always have a hold on you."

"I will take my chances," I answer simply.

"Then so be it," Adar sighs, but clasps a hand around my arm in an almost comforting gesture. "I have only made this worse for you, and I want no resentment between us, so permit me clear the air with Clara, and set my grandson straight on the matter...it was not my intention to make him run from you."

"I would appreciate that," I mumble wearily, a small relieved smile stitches itself on my face.

"Then I will go now," he tells me and reaches for the door, pausing momentarily to fish something out of his robe. "These rings are simply, beautiful but rather plain...I only hope and pray that your pursuit of this union will be the same."

He places the box containing the betrothal rings into my palm. I glance questionably at him, but he gives nothing away, his face a distant and hard mask as he leaves me.

I guess that is as close to a blessing as I could hope for.

* * *

 **A/N and again another update :) I hope you all enjoy more to follow soon. Many Thanks everyone for already following this story and giving so much love to TLA. xox**


	10. Chapter 10

_**10\. Roots**_

"They are a weed, madam! We do not grow _weeds_ in the royal gardens!"

" _Madam..._ I hardly think that madam is an appropriate address between you and I, Raffyn?"

"It is entirely appropriate, you are betrothed to his royal highness and...Clara stop sniggering...my lady...restrain yourself... _put the dandelion down!"_

I give an amused chuckle as I watch a rather delighted Clara blow dandelion downs across Raffyn's face. He looks entirely hassled and it reminds me of the years I spent being an eternal thorn in that stuck-up, straight-laced, staunch advisor's side. He always did take things far too seriously.

Casually, I swing my right leg off the marble ledge I have seated myself on. There is a partial shade here, from the rowan trees and ivy branches that hide the structure overlooking the gardens... _her gardens_. I give a contented sigh and return to running a wet stone over the length of my sword. It won't do to have it blunt if we are to travel to Imladris. I expect Elrond and his Noldorian kinsfolk will be surprised to see me there...wielding a sword...but I need them to know I'm not to be sidelined just yet.

"Lady Clara I must insist you stop this frivolity this instant!" Raffyn's indignant shout has me scowling in the general vicinity of her musical laughter I was most enjoying.

With a sigh, I drop from the height of the ledge and casually swing the sword across the broad of my back - Clara will get a kick out of this.

"Raffyn!" I snap, schooling my features into a mask of cold intolerance. The elf lord literally leaps in the air, my presence was clearly unexpected.

"Y-yes my prince?" He stammers and attempts to pick the downy fluff from the ends of his mousy hair.

"Is there a problem, because as I was made aware _this_ is a healing garden," I gesture to the wide green space. The land quite literally melts into the fringes of the forest as they meet with the caves. It is truly spectacular, and in every way perfect...at least to me.

"My lord," Raffyn huffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "The lady Clara requires tuition if you wish her to accompany us to Imladris...and quite frankly two days is not nearly enough time to turn this... _this_..."

"I dare you to finish that sentence!"

I barely contain my laughter when a slightly infuriated Clara pops her head up from behind an oversized clay flower pot. She literally fumes at my father's advisor, and he glares straight back. Evidently I may not need to threaten him with my sword, my betrothed looks terrifying enough!

Clara is drowned in the basin of the pot, for it is truly a monstrosity of a broken bronze contraption, but she liked it, and she thinks she can bring it back to life...I have no doubt that she can. With that being said she certainly looks more like a scullery maid, and less like an authoritative Princess, as she hangs over the rim of said ugly pot.

It is absolutely adorable to behold.

"Raffyn, I believe you have offended my betrothed?" I say evenly, motioning inconspicuously for Clara to pipe down - I know she isn't truly offended but I just adore watching Raffyn squirm.

"I-I-I did not...I mean...'twas unintentional my lord," he splutters and eyes Clara peevishly, but she is quick in reassembling her features to appear mournful and hurt. "Your father insists she be prepared to greet the foreign dignitaries by name, and be able to converse with them as is expected of a noble lady. We have lists to get through, and we haven't even discussed Noldorian court etiquette. My lord, she cannot even recite the names of Lord Elrond's chancellors...she is nowhere near ready-"

"If she cannot remember their names then she is ready," I chuckle and wave my hand dismissively. "No lady of Greenwood should have to lower her standards to play proper with the Noldor. If they do not like our Silvan etiquette they should not invite us, but if Adar wishes Clara to learn the ins and outs of the Imladris gentry, then, I do believe I am more qualified. So, problem solved Raffyn...you are dismissed."

The always efficient advisor almost ruptures a vein as he glares daggers at us both, but he has no jurisdiction here. I am positive Ada will get an earful of this by supper, and no doubt I will receive yet another lecture on propriety, modesty, and making proper use of ones time. These past months have been nothing but a juggling act, and I constantly remain torn between the contentedness of life with her, and the volatile, rigorous, training that the King insists I attend to. I know he has allowed this engagement to Clara, but he is damn sure making it difficult for me to spend time with her. But that is the price I agreed to pay - I can have her and my family, as long as the throne comes first.

"My hero!" Clara chirps, as she clambers out from the pot, watching Raffyn flounce off into the distance with a delighted grin.

"Anything to rescue a damsel from such agonisingly boring company," I reply and give her a flourishing bow, just for theatrics sake.

"Oh, he isn't that bad," she tsks, as she scrubs what appears to be clay from her hands and arms, by an abandoned bucket. "At least he let me work on my restoration while he prattled on. Honestly, Thranduil, if I had of known leaving for Imladris was going to be this much hassle I would have voted to stay behind."

"It is not going to be that taxing, at least not for you," I assure her, and peer into the old damaged pot, curious as to what she sees in it. Half of its base is broken and eroded away, weeds grow up through moss covered clumps on the sides she hasn't reached, and for the most part it looks dull and lifeless.

"I'll take your word for it," she chuckles and sets herself down on the ground, rubbing her thumbs over the clay she was obviously using to try and stick the thing back together. Her eyes narrow, causing a tense frown to gather between her eyebrows, and the tip of her tongue is just visible at the corner of her lips... _and I have never wanted to kiss her more_...Ada is right to force this distance, I can barely control myself at the best of times.

"Why are you-" I pause when I register that I was about to ask her why she was teasing me so much, and instead I mutter out; "why are you wasting your time, it's beyond repair?"

"No it isn't," she insists, twisting around to flash me a wonderful smile, her cheeks all flushed from the summer heat, and her hair wild and free about her shoulders. "Nothing is beyond repair, it just needs a little affection, someone to love it...once I'm through with it, this pot will be unrecognisable!"

 _Good Eru, you have no idea._

"It is all in the spirit of the object you see," she continues on barely noticing my distraction. "I mean this pot was made, right? So it had a grand purpose, at one point it was needed and required, but you know things get tired. They get forgotten or they fade, but that doesn't mean they're broken. The soul of the creation is still there, it's just my job - or, well an artist's job - to find it again. Just because it looks hopeless and ugly doesn't mean that it is...give it time...you'll see."

"I love you," the words tumble out without my consent, and she gives me a baffled look but grins proudly nonetheless, her whole countenance lightening. I drop my gaze bashfully, leaning my arms over the ridge of the large pot and shaking my head; "I love how your mind works, so in tandem with your spirit, I swear it drives me wild to be this close to you and not truly be able to appreciate it."

"Well," she starts and pulls herself to her feet, sliding up beside me and resting her hand over mine; "Why can't you appreciate it, is it faulty? Calanon says I'm getting better at transferring energy, he thinks I've got the healer's gift. Here...let me show you..."

" _No_ , Clara that isn't-" I step away but she follows. I outstretch my hand, keeping her at bay; "Clara, no, not yet, I am not... _ready_...I have to lead, it is too risky with my recovery."

"Oh... _Okay_ ," she relents, but only because she is terrified of causing me pain. I only wish that were the reason, and not the fact that she would feel the tattered holes in my body. She would sense the energy I expend on keeping it hidden, and the anger of that boils in my very blood...the contempt I harbour...she does not need to feel that.

"Come, we have a list of nobility to discuss," I give a soft laugh, trying to disperse the tension, and thankfully it seems to work. Clara drops the subject - a victory in itself - and let's me take her hand.

"Well, alright, but only because the King insists," she adds and I nod solemnly in agreement, as we link arms and make for the woods.

At last, a much longed for distraction.

xXx

"Do you ever wonder what's out there?" Clara mumbles in my ear, wriggling to make her head more comfortable against my shoulder.

We lie with our heads together - cheek to cheek - with our bodies sprawled on the forest floor like opposites...like a connected puzzle...watching the twilight sky turn from its waning pinks to deep purples. Elbereth's stars are glistening perfectly in the clear sky, the wisps of cloud making it appear like they are pinned to velvet cushions. It's beautiful, but not nearly as captivating as the elleth with me.

"Darkness," I answer reflexively, shrugging a little, "the skies that Arien and Tilion tread, and the domain of the Valar...Naneth called it Varda's canvas."

"Like an artist," she mumbles, and gives a sad sort of sigh. "I always feel like there is more to know...you make it sound so colourful."

I suppress a smirk, because it is far to easy to ensnare her imagination. She is like a child, as if everything is new and no matter what way I tell a story she finds it fascinating - and I am no gifted story teller.

I feel her move, her hand untangles from mine were I had captured it and was unconsciously tracing the ring on her finger. I like to do that, I like the reassurance of that promise. The thrill of knowing someday soon I'll know her entirely, and she will stay here, with me, with no question of where she belongs. She fits here - the forest, the stars, the land - she is alive in it, I can sense it.

"You are being awfully quiet," she points out rather blatantly as she rolls above me, her elbows planted either side of my head and her curious grey eyes blocking out my view of the stars. Not that it even bothers me...I much prefer this view anyway.

"I am enjoying the company," I answer her and grin mischievously when she rolls her eyes skywards and gives a little huff.

"Well, it's boring company," she replies in jest, a sarcastic tinge to her voice and a smirk threatening on her lips. "Let's play a game...something interesting?"

"Like?" I question, completely uncaring so long as she keeps smiling.

"Truth or Dare," she decides, casually drawing her finger over the lines of the silver scars of my face, the motion soothing and strangely intimate all at once.

"You go first," she prompts and I sigh. This is not a game, this is Clara poking around the edges of something she shouldn't. It amuses me that she thinks she is being inconspicuous.

"I am almost tempted to pick dare, but I know you are burning to ask me something," I chuckle and reserve a smug look of victory for when she gives me an appalled gasp; "Truth...I pick truth."

"Why did you not want to feel the light of my spirit earlier?" She asks quietly, her gaze momentarily dropping away from mine. "You are always so cautious about it, it's like you fear it, but when we... _bond_...won't you have to? I'm just confused Thranduil, I thought you wanted to feel it...I thought it helped?"

"Clara, do not presume such silly notions," I groan and slap my palm to my forehead.

"I'm not presuming anything," she mutters softly, retreating from me and coming to sit back on her legs, a soft sigh escaping her; "Never mind, I'm sorry I brought it up."

There is a very long - very awkward - silence, and in it I attempt to rationalise why I should not feel guilty for not answering her.

I does not work...

" _Why_?" I moan loudly when I register she is offended, and roll onto my side to eye her up suspiciously. "Why is it so important that I refuse to let you practise your healing abilities on me? It is my choice Clara!"

She picks her nails and keeps her eyes downcast, her lips parted as if she wants to speak but thinks better of it. It is an irritating flaw of hers, she lacks the faith in her words, she cowers away from confrontation, even when I know she is more than capable of berating me. I _wish_ she would just _speak!_

"Fine..do not answer me," I grumble, intent on returning to observing the stars again, "I thought this was the point of the _game."_

"You make me sound childish!" Clara snaps coarsely.

I freeze mid-position, and then slowly turn back around... _well that's more like my Clara!_

"I was only asking, you don't have to be so defensive," she continues, two solid tears pooling at the rims of her eyes. "You are always so...so... _I don't know_...but you do one thing and say another!"

She holds her two hands in claw positions and then begins to demonstrate how she would throttle me if she could. I find it so hilarious that my laughter seems to infuriate her further, but it does dissipate her tears.

"It isn't funny!" She accuses and leans away from me huffily, as I crawl towards her apologetically. "Stop ignoring my questions, or changing the subject, or pushing me away whilst whining that you want more...you make no sen-"

Her voice dies off into an aggravated muffle as I carefully hold my palm over her mouth. She glares daggers at me, and I can almost feel her heckles rise in defiance of being silenced. She really does ramble when she is upset, which is fine, only I cannot get a word in when she starts. Thus I am forced into unorthodox measures, because she ignored my several attempts at shushing and quietening gestures... _headstrong elleth!_

"Sshhh!" I scold playfully and wink, earning me a dissatisfied huff. "I will remove my hand if you swear not to go off on a tandem again...alright? You let me talk now, yes?"

I receive a seething look but one blunt nod of her head, so I release her. Mercifully she doesn't speak...just glowers...delightful.

"You are reading into this all wrong," I start carefully, painting a reassuring smile on my fake skin, disguising the entire fallacy of everything she knows to be true... _oh valar how will I ever show her?_

 _"_ I...am not well," I pick the words with difficulty and watch her eyes scrutinise me carefully. "It is not right of me to let you share your _fea_ with mine yet...I would drain you...not on purpose...but...this is _really_ awkward Clara, can you not just trust me?"

"No," she replies sternly, "I am sorry Thranduil but that excuse does not wash with me. If it is awkward then just spit it out...I am hardly going to laugh...I'm not insensitive. Tell me, or I am going to assume the worst."

" _Good Eru...FINE!"_ I groan and lace her hands with mine, bringing them up and draping them around my neck. I pull her close, resting her forehead against my own, my jaw tightening at the thought of the exertion; "I have to show you, I cannot tell you!"

"Why? Thranduil I don't understand?" She mumbles worriedly, but I fix her with a serious look and quieten my voice.

"Feel my breath, my pulse, my heat...that is real...remember that," I tell her and inhale deeply, resting my palms on the softness of her waist, feeling her solid warmth and anchoring all my senses to it.

"This isn't how Calanon usually teaches me," she breathes in answer, her voice hitching a little at the end.

"I am not Calanon," I smirk as I exhale slowly in expectation; "alright...show me what you have learned, meleth."

There is nothing for the longest heartbeat, and I nearly relax in the hope she has changed her mind, but before I can articulate a question I feel her flood the energy between us and I audibly choke off any words.

It is strong...too glaringly strong...it burns senselessly. She is too overbearing, I can't let her further she'll wreck me!

In my fear I retract, but not before the strong tendrils of her light weave around my edges. Suddenly she isn't so frightening, suddenly I am mesmerised by the glittering purity of her life's flame. It is innocent, decadent, omnipresent...it is beautiful...I _want_ it.

The cold, dying, flames of my once heated spirit begins to pull towards hers...hungry for the vitality she exudes. I let her thoughtfully examine my edges, I let her spirit meld with mine in a temporary, fleeting, very superficial bond...but it's not enough.

The wildness rises from the very depths of my essence. It thrums excitedly through the veins of my _fea_ as it registers the proximity of hers.

I was not expecting this.

In a moment the world shifts, and I feel only her...or the essence of her. The wild tones of the forest scream in my blood. _She is yours_ , it tells me relentlessly, _she is your mate._

Instinct, it brings a crude clarity to the niggling gut feeling that your heart was not lying to you. For once it is telling me something I have longed to feel, and I am completely enraptured by the sensation.

I want to be closer to her, so I pull her even tighter to me. My lips are against hers before I even commanded them. My hands have left her waist and are searching for a way to find more skin...I need her skin againist mine...I want to feel her pulse beat in unison with her stunning spirit. I want to bury my deadness in the depths of her light, just so I can feel alive again.

With every wave of her _fea's_ healing caress I am reminded of what it is to breathe again, without restriction. Like how the leaves of the trees need the light of the sun to live...I _need_ her to go on. I don't have to be a shell, I am whole...I have never had that.

 _I want more...she is only for me...my love...my mate..._

"S-s-stop," I stammer weakly, my hands entwining deeper into the roots of her hair, giving a contradictory message. "Oh Valar...good grief...Clara please... _please_ do not push any deeper."

" _You_..." She gasps breathlessly against my cheeks as she wrestles away from my lips. "You _are_ different...you felt...I felt...something powerful...it is addictive..."

She doesn't retreat, she is curious, maybe more than curious. That wild instinct has flowed directly to her, what she feels is too powerful for her, she can't think clearly around it. I can barely think around it!

"If you don't stop now, I will not have the strength or the will to break this bond," I tell her firmly, as I wrestle with all the conflicting desires of this moment. There are far too many...I have to pull back...she deserves better than my selfish wants.

She freezes in my arms, and I know she understands, for her _fea_ begins to retreat from mine.

The absence is all I comprehend for a moment. The cruel bitterness of feeling empty and suffocated again. The loneliness of my self inflicted burdens. The gaping holes in my half being.

I am abruptly devastated.

A shocked groan escapes me as my head drops into her neck in my fatigue. She hold me, like I am frail, like I am the one in need of care after that experience.

"I am so sorry," I mumble tiredly, and shake my head shamefully. "That was unexpected...I thought I could control myself...but I can't."

"That was incredible," she replies, her face nuzzling into the crown of my head, her fingers smoothing my hair.

Calming, gentle, forgiving, gestures.

"The others don't feel like that,"'she continues on, as I enjoy the hum of her voice through the skin of her throat. "Tell me what I felt? Is it different because there is...an attraction between us?"

"There is so much more than just an attraction between us," I almost chuckle at her naivety. "What you felt was the beginnings of a mated bond...or at least the overwhelming desire to create one. I was calling to you...I did not mean to Clara and for that I am utterly ashamed. I should have stopped you sooner."

"Why are you ashamed? I mean I think I played a part in it, I didn't exactly not answer," she giggles nervously, her hands clamping around my cheeks and pulling me up to meet her elated gaze. "Is that what it will feel like...that powerful? That intense?"

"I don't know," I answer weakly, a noticeable flush rising up my neck at the embarrassment of my next statement; "it is entirely new to me too...I...I have never felt this way before Clara...you are truly my first and only love."

She moves awkwardly in her bashfulness, her cheeks flushing pink, and her eyelashes fluttering downwards...but she smiles. A beautiful smile that speaks to me of understanding, even if she can't verbalise it, and I believe she feels similarly.

"Well, I am sorry too," she eventually speaks and clutches my face in her hands, drawing me close to kiss just once. "I was meant to be healing you not...well...I don't really know what I was doing? I didn't even feel like me, I felt wild, free even, like-"

"The forest?"

"Yes!"

I cringe, and bob my head in a sort of half hearted attempt at an apologetic explanation;

"Yes... _ahhh_...that just seems to be me...I think? I told you I was not exactly normal either," I squirm in my answer and fidget when her eyes burn with a new curiosity. "It is just me Clara, nothing to concern yourself about...it is nothing...well nothing remotely useful...a genetic gift from my Naneth's side."

"I get it," she nods sympathetically. "I know how you come alive at the very mention of your woods. It makes complete sense that your nature is bonded to it...at least from a healer's perspective."

"Yes, okay, well let's leave it at that," I swiftly slam that topic shut. I really don't feel like elaborating on all the marvellously strange gifts my Mother _blessed_ me with...and all the undesirable quirks that it creates. Like, being ruled by instinct instead of logic, for instance! I was one breath away from bonding with her on the forest floor - if she was consenting which clearly she was - _what a fine mess that would have caused?_

I feel ill...I need to get distance between us...I need space to remind myself why this is a _bad_ idea, because right now I cannot think of a single reason?

"I am tired," I blurt out too quickly as I stagger to my feet. "I need to rest, there is so much to plan for Imladris. I have so much to consider...I need to rest...yes a rest will help."

"Okay," Clara chuckles and clambers to her feet to take my arm, and grins playfully. "Let's get you home then...before you start seeing stars."

I balk at her comment but her laughter only increases. I thought she promised not to laugh? _Liar!_

"I promise I will keep my practices confined to the healers from now on," she assures me and squeezes my hand. "And, I will let you do all the leading and teaching...I know I am too much for you."

She winks suggestively and leans in to kiss my cheek, whilst I struggle with lungs that have entirely forgotten to breathe. I stutter half words and undignified squeaks which I attempt to hide with a few well-timed coughs, but it's futile.

"You are bold, meleth nin," I scold weightlessly, and tug a strand of her hair; "your youthful curiosity is going to get us both in trouble."

She grins and winks, a flirtatious giggle sounding as she sticks her tongue out and pulls away from me.

"I cannot help myself," she sniggers and shrugs, "you have too many interesting qualities...basically it's all your fault."

"Well, I am not going to disagree," I reply with a nod, because truthfully I really should know better!

xXx

After picking through the contents of my supper plate - because my stomach was still in knots - I decided a time of quiet fireside reading was in order.

I selected the most boring historical texts I could find, and settled myself by the grand fireplace with a blanket and an untouched glass of wine.

Legolas, being the definition of my personal shadow, plopped himself on the rugs and took to orchestrating a mini battle with his various toys. This was vastly more entertaining and distracting than any book, so I took to watching him instead - interjecting occasionally to add expert opinions on battalion formations.

"You need more cavalry, _ion_ ," I half yawn out in my weariness, pointing to his one stray wooden horse.

"No, I don't need cav-ilrly...I want archers," he huffs and plonks a few more wooden figurines on the hearth. "They are better Ada, don't be silly!"

"Oh of course," I nod in agreement and roll my eyes before muttering; "what would I know?

I watch intently as he rearranges everything to precision, whispering his thoughts and commands with great consideration of the various fanciful monsters his rabble of toys would face. It's quite thought provoking - to see him mimic me so - i absently consider that I do let him see too much, and that Clara may be right about encouraging him too much, but I am mildly impressed at his instincts. Although, impressed may be overstating things, for there is a slight fear that comes with such keen talents.

My brooding is interrupted by a heavy hand on my shoulder. I stiffen in shock my expression darkening at being taken so unawares...again!

"Thranduil...are you well?"

I cringe, shrinking into the fabric of the settee, for I really wanted to avoid verbal communication with him tonight. I really wanted to avoid any kind of scrutinising contact tonight. The last thing I need is my own Adar sniffing around me, and prying to things he knows will make us both terribly uncomfortable!

"Of course I am well," I quickly retort with a careless grin, waving the unread book in the air, "just a little weary...but that is normal."

"Why would you be so fatigued?" He questions, his voice a fine balance between concern and suspicion. "I was under the impression you spent quite a lazy afternoon in the woods with...your betrothed?"

 _Raffyn...that nosey, inconsiderate, irksome..._

"Thranduil? Are you honestly well...you are awfully flushed?" Adar interrupts my seething description with a rather patronising palm to my brow, as he positions himself on the sofa.

"Ada...I am not a child...Ada? _Oh good Eru..._ this is pathetic!" I grumble when he refuses to remove his hand, even with my wriggling and excessive huffing. I even briefly consider snapping at his hand - this is mortifying!

"No, but you are still my child," he unhelpfully and quite sarcastically reminds me. "Where you withthe elleth or not?"

"I was," I admit, gritting my teeth uncomfortably.

"And exactly how tiring was this walk about?" Adar continues with a quirked eyebrow, as he tilts the left side of my face to inspect carefully.

I stubbornly refuse to answer and instead meet his suspicious stare with my own angry glare. I am not a youth, I am not naive, and I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions without factoring in his opinions.

"You are not well enough," he begins quietly.

"I am fine!" I growl back before he can continue.

"No! No you are not," he mutters and shakes his head regretfully, before turning to Legolas and ordering him to go ready himself for bed. I receive a light hug and kiss farewell as I mournfully watch him trot off, blissfully ignorant as to the importance of his presence in keeping Adar off any uncomfortable topics. I instantly go rigid at the thought.

"Thranduil," he begins diplomatically, and I resist the overwhelming urge to sink into the overstuffed pillows, and be swallowed by the blanket.

"Adar, with all due respect, I do not feel that this conversation is necessary," I attempt to faff off his intentions with a my arrogant attitude, which usually works...but _oh no_ not tonight!

"No, it is _ion_ ," he reiterates again as he glares pensively at the ground. "You do not know how deep this will run, you are not prepared for it...this is my fault...I am not... _competent_...in discussing such matters."

"I was bonded before," I give a bored snort with my reply, "I understand the dynamics."

"You were bonded _not_ mated, there is a significant difference," he grumbles and I bury my head into my hands... _he is not happy unless he is making everything uncomfortable!_

"I know this is not an easy topic but it is essential, I have already discussed my concerns with the healers," Adar prattles on regardless of my quiet mewing for him to just leave the subject alone. "You need to be careful, you are in such a fragile state Thranduil...it is only by the strength of your _fea_ that you remain anchored to this flesh. You have no idea what will happen if you created a mated bond with that youth?"

" _Clara_...my betrothed's name is Clara!" I warn him forcefully, as I sit up straighter to meet his gaze with a challenging look. "Nothing negative can come from it Adar - she wants to be a healer - she would do nothing but good."

"But if she is not what you think she is, what then?" He queries and I bristle at the mere suggestion.

"Do you doubt her?" I snap coldly yet receive nothing but a weary smile in return.

"She is young - so young and innocent that I fear that she does not truly appreciate the weight of such a bond."

I click my tongue in irritation of the subject, leaning forward heavily in the seat as I contemplate coming to stand and quitting the room altogether. Adar chooses now to speak of such things? Where was his counsel over a decade ago? That was a time I actually needed it, with a 'wife' that showed no signs of enjoyment in a bond that _should_ have been extremely joyful. A time of confusion - I am not confused now - this is exciting, this is overwhelming, and intense and awkward, and all those other foolish notions you are supposed to feel at the anticipation of finding a mate.

"The healers are in agreement," Adar murmurs awkwardly at my side, his palm outstretched as if he intends to rest it on my knee to stay me, but he thinks better of it. He blows out another sigh and attempts to meet my gaze; "Anything traumatic could undo all of this hard-work in getting you well. A mated bond could do wonders, or it could destroy what is left of you if it ends badly...again."

"And by ending badly you mean...?" I query and make a rolling gesture with my fingers which he stubbornly ignores, and continues to glare awkwardly into nothing. I purse my lips and decide on finishing his statement; "As in...she... _Clara..._ is not what she appears and I am forced to break a bond again?"

There is nothing but stubborn silence, and my anger grows in it.

"I understand your just concerns," I attempt to sound out the words in the most diplomatic fashion I can muster. "But, with all due respect Ada, this is not the same situation and I know who she is."

"Thranduil you know nothing about her! She hides behind a wall of faked amnesia and for some unfathomable reason you play along," Adar hisses, his expression baffled and even worried. "Even her name, _ion..._ that is no elven name...she is lying to you!"

"Well maybe I prefer it that way!" I growl back and jump from the seat making for the exit. I do not want to hear this, I do not want to believe this, and I will not think of her in that way.

"Thranduil... _ion nin_...come back and speak with me?" Adar trails after me, his voice pleading enough so that I stall at the door, but I refuse to look up at him. "You love her, I understand, and she is clearly very much besotted with you, but do not rush into this. All I want to ask is that you wait. Wait long enough to know that whatever her truth is, you can accept it."

I wrap my hand around the door handle; my heart is flying in my chest and my skin flushed the darkest red. I am hot, much too hot, I want out of this suffocating room.

"You let your guard down today," Ada murmurs quietly, in a manner that sounds both understanding and sympathetic. There is no judgment in his voice, and part of that makes this worse. "You let it go to far, didn't you?" I drop my gaze and lean my head against the door. "It is alright _ion nin,_ it is alright to feel this way...this good...healthy even. I know what it is like to want to let them take it away, to let that love take away the memories long enough to feel whole again."

"How could you possibly know?" I snap bitterly, and resent myself further for being so scathing.

"Because I held your Naneth when she bore wounds too scarring to heal," he answers in the quietest voice, so quiet and emotive it makes me silence my inner struggle with him. I glance towards him and watch in shock as he falters over the rare emotion in his voice; "She took so much of me - she needed so much of me - and I felt every hurt and memory as if it were my own. We were mated Thranduil, we shared the one spirit, and before Eru himself I would never deny that it was the most sacred and greatest honour to be allowed to hold her spirit in mine...to love her."

"Why are you telling me this?" I swallow a thick lump in my throat and drop my gaze again.

"Because you love the elleth, and I cannot stop you from throwing your heart and soul into something, but I can guide you," he answers in probably the most honest fashion I've heard in decades. He shuffles towards me, quietly, like he doesn't want to push me away; "Get to know her, and let her know the truth about you. Let her see the scars and tell her of the past...maybe she will do the same? Either way, ease into this bond Thranduil...do not be selfish...think of the girl too. Just, prepare each other, take your time there is no need to rush."

"Okay," I whisper hoarsely, as I yank open the door, pausing momentarily to pick my words carefully; "Ada...I did not know that Nana was so ill. I did not know that you both suffered...by the time she decided to leave it was too late. I, well I never stopped to think that you carried her pain too...whatever ghosts haunted her they ran deep. She never spoke of it but I wasn't blind...she hid scars too, didn't she?"

"She did," Ada answers honestly, his lip quivering slightly, his eyes filling with some kind of rawness, but he smiles despite himself. "But you don't need to know how they came to be or why she hid them, for you were the light of her life. She wanted nothing but beautiful memories for her only child, her only blessing. So do not concern yourself with my burdens _ion nin_ , I carry them gladly...I want you to be able to say the same."

* * *

 **A/N: It's been so so long my friends. But I think my computer system isn't completely adverse to FFN now. Hopefully...if this holds, I've got lots of updates for you. Lots of Love, your friend, Wunderkind.**


	11. Chapter 11

_Setting: On the Road to Imladris, Thranduil takes a detour to a settlement of WoodMen, who have recently taken a new chieftain. However, on arrival Clara has unearthed some nasty truths that might rock the fragile state of the village - taken from the chapter: 'Human or Elf?' - TLA._

* * *

 _ **11\. Swayed**_

She breaks through the doors of the Chieftains Hall with such angry force that it gains plenty of attention. Several noblemen practically leap off their stools and even my guards flinch.

I do not.

I'm torn between irritation and curiosity, but the second Clara stalks towards the table I begin to sense a challenge - I find that thrilling. Relaxing in my chair, I almost resist the urge to fold my arms and grin smugly. What poor idiot has crossed her today? Not me, of that I'm certain!

"Lord Thorald?" She asks in her most serious voice, and I practically twist my whole self sideways, as I stand to observe the young chief's reactions...mild terror about sums it up. "May I speak with you plainly about a matter of the highest priority?" Clara continues undeterred and I switch my gaze back to her. Her back straight, her jaw set, her eyes are wild with fire and I am momentarily distracted by them.

"Lord Thorald," I begin quietly - once I've regained my senses - gesturing a respectful nod towards Clara - her lips remained pursed and unamused. Now I really am interested. "This is the lady Clara, my soon to be wife, she has journeyed with me today...she wished to see your settlement."

"Are you aware of a serious virus that is spreading through your people at a startling rate?" Clara quickly interjects the moment I finish her introduction to the extremely baffled boy. Her anger is untempered, I have never saw her so passionate before, and in that very moment I feel that familiar knot twist and pull tighter... _good Eru she is stunning when she is riled for a fight!_

I chew the inside of my cheek, momentarily distracting myself from the swift direction my thoughts took. I am caught in a moment of unadulterated lust for this elleth and a huge gush of pride. It takes all my self discipline to remain quiet and to concentrate on her accusations. I am aware that it is probably only me that finds her challenging display utterly seductive. It is slightly unnerving how I enjoy her rage when it isn't directed at me.

"Are you aware that your healers have not enough medicine to deal with the rising number of victims?" Clara pushes her hands balling tighter, her skin flushing in her rage, and I settle myself to listen to her plea, slightly concerned that her tone may land us in trouble.

"No I was not aware there was an issue?" He speaks and glances to a wiry grey haired man to his left, obviously an advisor, who guiltily drops his gaze. "Do you mean to say that there has been unnecessary death?"

"Unfortunately that is the sad truth my lord," she condemns them bitterly and locks her fierce eyes with the obviously guilty advisor. _Vile men_...I suppose their greed should not surprise me it seems all too typical. "I have just spoken with your chief medic who explains that choices have been made to only administer aid to those who have a better chance of survival." Clara finishes her accusation with a resolute jerk of her head. I am cautiously quiet for a moment, carefully weighing up the looks being passed between these men, deciphering if I should intervene now or let Clara manage alone. I will admit I am intrigued by her forthrightness, and I am pleased by it.

"What does that mean?" The youngling chief appears extremely shocked by the revelations, and I'm not surprised, for he is entirely inept.

"It means the old, the frail, and the infants die, in order to preserve those who are fit and able to recover to serve you." She answers clearly and he sucks in a sharp breath, but she doesn't stop there; "Forgive me my lord but you have the responsibility to care for each of your subjects, if you do not do this then you run this risk of unrest and distrust among your people. I have a child outside your very doors who is losing her grandmother to the infection, when she dies she will have no-one left to care for her and who then will be her voice? I suggest to you that you take immediate action to rectify this most grievous of situations before you lose your young ones."

My stomach tightens a little, and I casually attempt to not give a disgusted, humourless, laugh. How very typical and cliche of men to lust over power and position, to put their own comforts over a child's. I admit that I am far from innocent, and I enjoy my lavish and comfortable lifestyle, but I am well aware it comes at a price. A price that Clara has so eloquently articulated to this young and entirely clueless leader. It is the ordinary folk that put us in these privileged positions, and ordinary folk can change the tide if they feel betrayed. For once I wish Adar had of been here to have heard Clara speak, to see how clearly she understands us, and how much insight she has for our duty. How can he not see her worth? She is more a Queen than any noble elleth...she is breathtaking.

A few weighted moments pass before I register I need to intervene. She has risked so much to bring the plight of these people to the feet of their superiors, and I am well aware of the growing sense of alarm and contempt around this meagre table,

"Lady Clara oversees the provision of medicine and the wellbeing of my Father's realm; she would not bring such an issue to you if she did not feel it was beyond her skill to address. She has given you an opportunity to rectify the situation before it escalates, may I suggest you heed her advice." I speak up, as diplomatically as the tense moment allows. I train my eyes to Clara, in a small attempt to assure her I can sway this exchange favourably her direction, and the gesture is not lost when she mouths her silent gratitude my way.

Truth be told I have no idea how this will play out, but as Thorald directs his astonished and embarrassed anger at his councilmen I only look to Clara. Her safety is paramount and I will not have disloyal and vermin like men belittle or scoff at her. As Thorald rises to head out into the village to see the damage for himself, I immediately come to Clara's side, my senses on edge as I glare challengingly at the infuriated mortals who surround us.

xXx

I have seen Clara angry - usually aggravated by me or directed towards me - it is an entirely different experience to see her upset.

She stalks between the pantry shelves, furiously tossing items into a wicker basket in her arms and grumbling erratically. I am, admittedly, terrified of speaking to her.

I loiter on the edge of the doorway, half listening to the guards speak in hushed tones by me, and half concentrating on the men that crowd her. It is extremely distracting and I'm very uncomfortable with her so close to these mortals...these _infected_ mortals!

"My lord," one of my entourage mumbles quietly in my ear, his eyes suspiciously scanning the men at the far end of the hall that have been detained for questioning by the young King.

" _Hmm?"_ I answer half-heartedly as I eaves drop on the heated conversation between one of these mortal healers with Clara...I do not appreciate his tone.

"My lord, I feel we should disengage from this village as soon as possible," the ellon urges me and nods towards the King and his shamed councillors. "I appreciate the strong desire to aid allies, but this is not our concern. The lady Clara has shrewdly brought such crimes to the forefront of this new lord's attention, but the situation is unpredictable. I would recommend you and your betrothed leave soon, for safety purposes."

"I understand," I nod in agreement with the ellon and gesture for him to go do whatever he has to, to arrange our exit.

Squaring my shoulders, I determinedly stride past the men crowding Clara, only to find that she is rummaging through the back shelves of the pantry again. The healers step away from my approach, ducking their heads, and mumbling in irritation at the enlarged elven presence. I get the impression that our help is not gratefully received - in fact I feel they are not the slightest bit appeased. _Ungrateful swine!_

"Clara?" I mutter into the darkened corner, my eyes shifting uneasily around this space, I don't like my back showing to these heathen creatures.

"Hold that," she grumbles and shoves another basket into my unprepared hands, so that I almost drop it.

"Clara?" I try again, but she continues to ignore me whilst tossing items into the basket...counting under her breath.

"Five...ten...fifteen," she whispers as she drops, what I assume as seeds or roots of some kind, into a bowl before nestling it in the basket too.

"We need to leave," I eventually say, a little too forcefully, and she stills her erratic movements to stare at me with watery, red-rimmed, eyes.

"Not before I help the child," she whispers, her voice catching on a sob in her throat, "and her grandmother."

"Their own can help them now, love, you've done more than enough," I answer a little more soothingly at this point. "Let them tend the child with their own medicines, it's better for them they are mor-."

"So!" She snaps, her fingers gathering into tight fists. "They are the children of Eru, just like us! They live, and breathe, and feel pain... _just like us_...Thranduil you would not walk away from an elfling in that state would you?"

"No," I answer fairly, although a few years ago I would not have been so confident over that answer. I am perplexed though, it is extremely unlikely I would ever see an elfling so ill. Mortals are so careless with their fragile children, it is alarming to think of an elfling precariously close to death, such a thing is a grave tragedy to us. I understand her fear, such a sight would be a shock, and Clara's reactions seems natural given her fondness for little ones.

"Well then!" She growls and rips the basket from my arms, "let me care for them, and don't patronise me."

"Clara, we cannot stay," I argue, whipping around to catch her arm. "Your little stunt - though courageous and honourable - leaves a sour taste in the mouths of these noblemen. I cannot - will not - let you stay here under a threat."

"Then tell me, do you feel threatened?" She hisses and shrugs her way out of my grasp. "By these mere mortal men...do you feel at risk?"

I don't answer, mostly out of pride, but she has a valid point. There are risks involved with remaining allies with men; they are unpredictable, disloyal at times, and feeble minded - but am I threatened? No, not by this child-king or his ageing council. In truth I feel pity for the boy, and the meagre lot of a kingdom that he has been given. What man can he be if he has not the tools or supplies at his disposal to rule his village - his own piece of land. I fear this child needs a backbone and a mouth of his own to speak his own commands - and to greet his own guests.

"Come on," I grumble and slide my arm around Clara's waist, guiding her through the building at a forced speed, glaring daggers at every single leech of a man that would either lust over her or wish her dead. They have no idea how damn fortunate they are that she is here, that she sways my pity with her heartfelt plea for them.

I slide through the throngs of councilmen until I place myself, and a suddenly rather silent Clara, in front of their Chieftain. He glances warily over Clara, and I instinctively hold her tighter, an unconscious threat that I'll slit each of their throats if they dare make a move. I gather their women are not a valuable commodity, and I have deciphered that the equality among my kind unnerves them. Clara speaks and my entire guard listen, a child and her ailing grandmother wail on the steps of their halls and the men step over them like they were dogs. I am equally as unnerved by their devaluation of their women - it makes no natural or instinctual sense?

"My lord Thranduil?" The young chief asks, a slight tremor in his voice, his eyes still trained to Clara, and to her credit she keeps his gaze. "Is there more your... _lady_...would like to discuss?"

"No, my Lord," Clara answers before I can, and I feel my jaw tighten as I slide a pleading gaze her direction. She catches my eye, and I am convinced she understands my concerns, so she lowers her head in a sign of respect. "You have did a great justice here today, and I thank you for shrewdly and compassionately dealing with my concerns."

"Of course, my lady," Thorald answers timorously, his eyes darting to mine, and then to the various irked, decrepit, councilmen. "I thank you both for your concern, it has been... _insightful."_

"Forgive me my elven ignorance, but I know little of the governance of men and their kingdoms, but many of your council seats seemed to lie vacant? Do the young not sit at their chieftains table?" I interrupt whilst simultaneously holding the gazes of his council, they are too old and too cowardly to maintain eye contact with an elf. Their dulling life energy avoids elven spirit, like it is embittered by it - foolish humans.

"We have lost many of our young men," Thorald answers, the elder councilmen grumbling audibly around him as he does. Apparently my ignorance is offensive, I merely shrug it off, I will not pretend to understand the fleeting lives of mortals and how they choose to structure them.

"Then I am saddened to know of such loss," I answer evenly, "life is life regardless of age or race."

"Indeed," the young chieftain answers, a heaviness in his voice, "It is lonely without peers to dual with, it ages the heart before its time."

I give a hard laugh for he is nothing more than a little boy, but I do not doubt his grief is not all-consuming and defining. I only find his description of emotion humorous, an elven heart never ages it only grows heavier with centuries of love and loss. A mortal heart seems drastically fragile in comparison...I pity the boy to carry such sorrow so soon.

"This is a difficult time for you?" I ask, my eyebrows drawn in consideration of his pain, and I register I have not the experience to draw upon to offer the child comfort. His guarded gaze speaks volumes and I straighten up to observe a struggling Kingdom in the hands of a terrified boy who needed a father not a council of decrepit corpses. I tilt my head to the side and attempt to commune some level of sympathy, anything that makes the presence of my kin less judgemental and more concerned;

"We are allies Thorald," I reassure him quietly, my hard gaze drifting across the ailing corpses of his council; "you should have petitioned my father for assistance."

"We do not need the pity of elves!" An man, old to his kin with deep lines in his leathery skin, shouts and shakes his cane at me. I only shake my head in mild confusion. I am not sure how I am supposed to treat this man, like a child? Like an elder? He is covered in ancient skin but his years are short, his wisdom limited, how can I be offended by someone so ignorant? Does he realise he could live ten of his lifetimes and still be considered a child to me?

"What my advisor means to relay, is that we are a proud folk and we can recover on our own without being beholding to any superior Kingdom," the young chieftain corrects the old man and outstretches a calming hand to him whilst gracing me with a steady look. I laugh then, a strong and amused sound that was not intended to be taken so offensively. "Do you offer us insult my lord?" Thorald demands, a fire sparking in his youthful eyes.

"No," I chuckle and shake my head passively, "I am merely understanding a common place similarity between us Thorald. I am not keen on the charity of _superior_ kingdoms either. However, as it stands your people are suffering under a grave loss and it is both rude and insensitive of me not to offer you aid in this time. I will sanction the provision of medicine and grain to assist you and your people to combat this strife. Clara has taken stock of your supplies, she will make the necessary arrangements with our stores so as to accommodate your need."

"That is extremely generous of you my Lord Thranduil," Thorald squeaks and eyes the now suddenly silent councilmen, almost as if he is begging them not to ruin this. "But what would your King ask for in return?"

"Continued relations between us, the carrying of intelligence of the lands, and maybe a little more open-mindedness from your council - my people may be dangerous but not to friends my lord Thorald," I reply evenly, with just the smallest amount of a warning in my voice to his senile councilmen.

"Then you ask nothing more then the terms your father settled with my ancestors," Thorald states, seemingly in a little bit of shock.

"It is all my King asks," I stipulate and give a hint of a smile, "we are woodland elves, Thorald, we seek nothing but peaceful relations with neighbours. We are a proud folk too."

"Then we understand each other better than I would have imagined," Thorald replies with a hearty laugh and outstretches his hand and forearm. I observe it momentarily, before a feel a slight dig to my ribs from Clara, so I tentatively reach my hand to his. I'm unsure of this gesture? Thorald firmly grips my forearm at the joint of my elbow, and I copy his lead in the gesture; "Thank you Prince Thranduil, and may you send our high praises to your gracious King."

"Of course," I reply and release my grip, taking a step back to bow my head. "We will take our leave as soon as my betrothed has tended to the child and her grandmother."

"Yes, yes of course, is there anything you may need Lady Clara?" The young chief pushes eagerly.

"No, what I have is enough to ward off the brunt of the infection, but the little girl needs care...I don't know if her grandmother will be strong enough to survive," Clara clearly articulates her concern and Thorald bobs his head in understanding.

"My wife, she will care for the girl I am sure," the chieftain confirms, "she takes much to do with the orphans of our village."

"Then I will leave her instructions for the girl's care," Clara responds with a nod of her head and then glances to me.

"We shall ready our horses and take our leave soon, many thanks for your continued hospitality Thorald, my father will be most delighted to know our friendship remains strong," I reiterate with a swift now, and quickly twirl Clara on her heels and march her out of the dingy hall.

"Can you do that?" She squeaks, glancing up at me with panic stricken eyes. "Offer aid, without your father's permission?"

"No, probably not," I answer a little too quickly, clicking my fingers at my guards and gesturing them to follow.

"Thranduil? I am so sorry," she mews quietly, "I did not mean to put you in that position I-."

"You saw a need and you acted honourably," I say as I stop her in her tracks and clasp her shoulders in my hands. "Stop fretting, go heal the child and the grandmother and no more than that. I will see to the rest, but we must leave soon...okay?"

"Thank you," she breathes and stretches up to press a kiss to my cheek. "I love you."

I smile and nod, and watch her scurry off with her basket whilst feeling the rather smug aura of another slide up beside me.

"Not a word Aradan, not one word," I warn and glance to my right to find him grinning idiotically at me.

" _Oh,_ you have it bad," he sniggers teasingly, and I scowl. "You are doomed my friend, utterly doomed. She is going to be the end of you, you are going to be out picking flowers and singing songs of peace and harmony about loving our neighbours...I'm going to miss you old boy, it was fun while it lasted."

"I am going to rip out your tongue whilst you sleep!" I snarl and stalk off, not in the slightest bit interested in listening to his teasing.

"Oh I doubt it, Clara would be most upset if you did," he giggles gleefully and lops along beside me. I resist the urge to break his nose.

"Shut up, Aradan," I warn, but he predictably laughs and I groan...I don't think I deserve this?

xXx

"Mortal men? You were swayed by the plight of mortal men?" Adar asks, in what I would consider a patronising tone.

"What was I supposed to do? Ignore it? Oh yes, that would really improve relations!" I snap and pick at my thumb nail, scowling at the low embers of a tiny camp fire. "You are all acting like I am a thoughtless crow of an elf! I do have a heart, I do see suffering, I just do not often see the need in involving myself in such dramas. Mortals will die, I cannot allow feelings to move me every time I deal with them."

"Yet you happily involved yourself this time, at a risk I may add," he grumbles pointedly and drains the contents of his cup. "New rule and leadership is fragile, you could have easily upset the apple cart of that settlement. They are mortal men, a woman - albeit elven - unearthing their corrupt ways is virtually a crime."

" _Ai!_ Ada, Clara is just young, she saw a dying child and could not console herself to its fate," I argue and rub at the tension in my forehead. "There was no malicious intent, you know how youthful righteousness is, and I believe their young chieftain saw the same injustice as Clara. He was as blind and naive as any mortal boy too young for a throne. I believe Clara may have just secured you another lifetime of friendship between the woodmen and ourselves."

"I agree, but she is just fortunate that you were there to smooth over her emotive outburst," Adar replies evenly and points a warning finger at me. "That behaviour is too volatile, I do not like it Thranduil and it screams of suspicion. No elven youth has ever appeared so sensitive to mortal needs - would you not agree?"

"You are being ridiculous," I snap and turn away from him, "and paranoid!"

"Maybe so, but your little Clara is hiding a secret and you are intentionally ignoring the evidence," he answers me with a pointed look.

"I am not discussing these foolish thought of yours," I grumble and stalk away from him, pausing momentarily to end this argument before it begins; "even if there were secrets, there is not a malicious bone in her body, some things are better left hidden!"

"Like scars and deformities?" Adar quietly interjects and I freeze, a coy smile playing on the ends of his lips. "You are both keeping secrets, because it suits you both...do not pretend otherwise to me."

I want to say something harsh in return. I want snap and sneer over his insinuation, but wouldn't that make me even more guilty? I only drop my head, and twist away from him, as I do I spy Clara chattering happily to Aradan in the distance and my stomach sinks. She must sense my gaze for she quickly flits her eyes to mine and suddenly she beams cheerily for me, relief and achievement written all over her face. I don't know what this day meant for her, but it is worth it to see the lift in her countenance. But the question still remains - would she still reserve that smile for a monster?


	12. Chapter 12

_Setting: The night Thranduil discovers Clara's past, and the ensuing panic._

* * *

 _ **12\. Secrets**_

Fear.

It is the sickness in all of us that drives us to either stand in faith, or crumble in weakness. An often insignificant emotion that niggles at the back of ones mind, growing, becoming stronger, more suspicious, until it strikes and decimates its victim with all its cruel and torturous venom.

As a warrior, I was taught to control fear, to take it and smother it under layers of self-discipline, instinct, and mindfulness. As a Prince, I was taught that fear was something to be acknowledged or even employed as a tactic - as a superior, a certain level of fear has to come from your subordinates. But also the acknowledgment of fear in yourself and others around a political table, this was useful to unearth undesirable behaviour or confirm suspicions.

Therefore, my exposure to my own fears was often difficult and complex. I soon came to the conclusion that a warrior cannot rule a nation, or be a parent, or friend, or lover without the presence of fear. So, I had to conclude that fear was something that would attempt to rule me and I would just have to learn to battle it.

I vividly remember times when I _thought_ fear was about to win. The first time I felt it's crippling shame was when I stood on the threshold of my father's rooms. One more step and I was going to have to face the sea of questions or disgusted looks. Bregeth was gone, and her public departure left a sting in my chest. Not that our bond (if one could even call it that) was specifically painful to detach, on the contrary it was much too easy. It was the painful admission that I had failed, and that somehow I would be held accountable by both my peers and some higher power. I _feared_ for my own pride, but I was most frightened of the future.

How would my son cope...how would my father? What torturous rumours would they attempt to destroy my character with? What pain would I cause in the wake of this scandal? Would I be damned forever for this? Was I wrong? Should I have fought harder? How was I supposed to be a King without a Queen to provide the stability of heirs? Was I even worthy of such a title?

Yes, I will admit to feeling physically ill with fear for the first several years of my life without Bregeth. Not because I missed her, no I was probably relieved, but because loneliness is a disabling and all-consuming fear.

I muddled through it of course. I survived the scandal, and I survived the pains of parenthood too. I firmly believed if I could survive Legolas' bedtime tantrums alone then I could survive just about any hellish torment created by Morgoth. It would appear I might have foreshadowed my own fate.

The incident with the dragon was the only time I felt I would perish with fear. I would never admit to another soul, not even my father, but I cannot even speak of the memories without being gripped with a shadow of the fear of that moment of oblivion.

My memories are so cloudy and fragmented from that day. I do not recall the mess of misguided decisions I must have made that led me to that stand-off. I only remember rage. My own hot-blooded wrath against Morgoth's abomination. That savage excitement that comes from spilling blood is glorious. I became drunk on the sadistic pleasure as an ignorant and undefeated warrior. I would _kill_ that dragon. I would be the one to claim victory, to stand before fearful nobility as a lesser elf with scandal and disappointment attached to his name, and they would kneel before _me_ in their gratitude. They would know that my fire was unquenchable and my reach was powerful...that _I_ was worthy of legends.

What mindless stupidity!

To stand before a fire-drake is to place a noose around your own neck. The earth lay ablaze around me, the screams of death echoed in my ears, and the ground shook beneath my feet. The dragon approached and my courage fled. The fire in my spirit was nothing but a dull flicker in comparison to the fire within the dragon. A cruel, destructive, all-consuming, blaze that erased life...my life.

I had fought the creature, futilely of course, for my attempts were only to tire it. My blade would not pierce his scales, my strength would not overpower his, and my fire would be extinguished in the gleaming ferocity of his one exhale. I would die here, I would die of stupidity and ignorance and the speakers of legends would laugh at the mention of my name, or hang their heads in pity and shame. The reckless elf who destroyed himself in pursuit of glory - did he not see the glory before him? A proud father, the love of an incredible nation, a glorious and enchanted home, and a son. A little boy, with all the hopes and dreams and desires of his ancestors concealed in his little spirit...why could I never see the glory and the treasure in that? Why was that never enough?

Before the fire consumed me I felt the oppression of guilt, and fear seized me. I could not leave my son, my glory and all my triumph was in him, and I would live to tell him that! I would live to see him be better than I, and I would love him and treasure him above all others. I'd build him a home, give him safety, and somewhere he would be proud to claim he was from. He would know me, and he would know the real me...not the scandal left behind by legends of an unfit Prince. He would be proud to call me Adar...but then the flames consumed me.

I lay in the arms of death for so long. I just held on to the memory my son, for that was all I had to live for. I had to go home, I had to show him how sorry I was, and I had to make it better. There was many a long hour where death was so close it was suffocating me. I could comprehend nothing but pain as my ravaged flesh knitted itself back together in a grotesque and monstrous shape. The light and strength of my people is strong, immortal, it heals all hurts so the flesh can continue on bound to this decaying world. So I lived, my _feä_ continuing on in the shell of a monster...a reminder of my sins.

But the grace of Illúvatar spared me the pain of my new flesh. I was the child of an enchantress, an elleth who had blessed gifts for creating beauty. I could restore the memory of my flesh, I could grow something beautiful from the horrendous scars of my body. The world would only ever see what I needed them to see, and my son would be proud...but could I live with such a lonely lie?

I don't think I could have. I think I would have eventually succumbed to the hatred of myself. The monster would show through the beautiful perfection, and they would all know I was broken...not right...malformed. I would only ever be half of anything, and I had resigned myself to that miserable acceptance...until _she_ showed up.

All glittering, hopeful, light, and clumsy peculiarity. I fell in love with how she saw the cracks in my facade and deemed them pointless. Clara was more interested in how I should be conducting myself with Legolas, like she knew what I desired more than anything, and she would help me fill in the gaps. She lifted me out of my self-loathing and insecurity so I could get over myself and see the treasures before my own eyes again. She taught me how to live, and not just exist but truly live with hope and expectation.

I still hid behind my mask. I was frightened that if she really saw how I could never heal that she would be repulsed. It may have been a silly notion but I wanted her to desire me as I desired her. I knew that while she continued to believe I was physically healing, then she would continue to touch me in a longing way. I craved that, it was healing in itself, but if she knew it was all a spell would she stop? I would not blame her if she did, I am certain I would too if the tables were reversed. I would want to know how truly broken my lover was, and if we could truly be a bonded pair with such hidden disfigurement? Nonsensical questions of course, I was perfectly able to fulfil those duties although maybe not as energetically as before, but I could still love her. I could still give her the children she desired, or at least I hoped I could. Still, just because I was willing didn't necessarily mean that she would be so excited about the prospect...and that's what I feared.

I should have known better!

The moment she stormed into the apartments I had been assigned to in Imladris my heart fell to the pit of my stomach. The fear was crippling. She would not leave me, the panic and worry in her voice was almost unbearable. I felt wretched for keeping her in the dark, for assuming the worst of Lord Elrond - a decent and noble elf - before she would assume the worst in me.

The panic in her eyes, the shook in her voice, when she discovered my hateful secret. The monster was unmasked and what a pathetic creature he was. Yet, she sought to defend me, attempted to rationalise my lies and disprove them, and when that didn't work she accepted it.

Acceptance.

I do not think people realise the value of such an action. Everyone seems to construe it as a sense of belonging - _being accepted as part of the community._ No, that is honestly just a sense of belonging, and we all feel displaced at some point in our lives. Acceptance is harder, acceptance is tough and heavy, it is weighed down with truths that are often uncomfortable and appalling, but when actioned it is defining and, in this instance, healing. She accepted the broken mess, the monster under my skin, and she kissed it.

The tenderness was unravelling, and the fear fled from it like how light chases away the darkness. I had won, I had defeated fear, but my weapon was her. All the love and acceptance that she willingly lavishes on me without consideration of herself is truly the only way I could have overcome my fear. I wasn't broken anymore, I was almost whole, and the desire in my heart was replaced with something deeper...faith.

That faith gave me certainty that no matter what happened she was my true mate. I was forgiven, my past was forgotten, and by the grace of Eru Illuvatar I could live again, with her, the right way. I had never been more thankful in my all my years, and never more blessed...nothing would take this from me.

Or...at least that is what I believed.

xXx

"You were a mortal girl?" I murmur, my voice something above an almost silent lament.

She nods, and I feel the blood drain from my veins. I suddenly feel sick, a dragging feeling in my gut that speaks of panic...maybe even fear? _What is she?_

 _"_ I need to ask Clara, and just be honest, how old are you?" I ask the question with my eyes squeezed shut. I honestly don't want to know, but my conscience drives me.

"Um...twenty six I guess, verging on twenty seven?" She cringes in answer, two beautiful pink blotches appearing on her tear stained cheeks as she admits it out loud. I feel like I've been hit by a sledgehammer, and my stomach lurches... _I think I am going to be sick!_

For the briefest second I observe her, all crumpled pitifully on the floor, sniffling like a terrified child... _but she is a child?_ I recoil from the thought and all the horrendous, guilty, shameful, memories that come flooding in along with it. She is so young, I cannot comprehend what that means? For a mortal she is a woman... _she looks like a woman_...but to us she is barely alive? But what matters - what truly matters - is what she is to me? I know by the way she stares pleadingly at me, begging me not to draw judgment on her like she did for me...the _fear_ is crippling.

"Oh you are just a little girl," I muffle a cry into my palms, unsure exactly how I should react? I don't know what this makes me? A fool or a brute in the eyes of my people? I don't even know if I care? I breathe out, and suddenly feel a little reassured that considering her age her oddities are completely understandable. "This would explain much about your behaviour," I chuckle sadly, and watch her grimace at my comment.

"I am not a little girl, I just have not lived as long as you." Clara rightly reminds me, and suddenly I feel very foolish indeed.

She is _not_ a child, she is a young woman who was - according to her tale - horrifically killed in an accident and brought to a strange place completely beyond her comprehension. I can't even begin to understand her terror, or her courage. The bravery she has shown in the face of complete and irreversible change - it is inspiring. I am almost thrilled that she no longer is tied to the fragility of mortal life.

"But now you will," I answer, managing to fully turn to look her in the eye since this whole sorry affair started. "And this fills me with joy, that you will live, for I cannot fathom a world without you."

"Can you forgive me?" The question tumbles from her lips with so much hope that it throws me again. I do not know how to answer that, I do not even know how to react to any of this? It is insanity, she should not be here, she should not exist! Why could she not tell me? Why did she tell _him?_

The realisation hits me. My problem is not what she is, it is what she has let happen, and the horrible truth is I do not even think she meant it but it still hurts. The hidden truth has successfully managed to prove to half the elven race that, yet again, I am incompetent, irrational, foolish, and incapable of not causing a scandal. I should have not let my heart rule my head, I should have ignored this incessant curiosity I have over captivating things...idealist fool!

"In time, yes," I answer her because she has waited long enough. "I need a little time, only a little...can you give me that?"

"Yes," she replies, but the tremor and sadness in her voice almost causes me to waver. I really cannot hold her gaze, it is too brutal to watch "But what is a little amount of time?"

"Let's just get through tomorrow and the journey home," I answer reflexively, because I am struggling to decide how to react. My emotions are flying off in far too many directions. My wrath and hatred directed entirely at Echanar, that vicious little brute has been waiting an opportunity to prove to the aristocracy that it was I, and not his cousin, that was to blame for the fall of their family name.

"And Legolas?" Clara's question momentarily distracts me, for I selfishly had not thought that far ahead, "How will we proceed for his sake?"

"As normal," I say with a shrug. "You are, and always will be a mother figure to him. I will not make him suffer because of my inability to come to terms with this."

"But you will come to terms with it?" The hurt in her eyes is staggering, and I know that presently I cannot give her that promise...I am not sure how or what I am going to do?

"I want to Clara but right now I cannot answer that." I hate myself even before the words had left my tongue. I hate myself so much so that I leave the room before she destroys me. I cannot watch the devastation consume her, I am to much of a coward to stay here and watch her cry because of my inability to meet her estimations of my character...her far too generous estimations.

xXx

I am admittedly prone to dramatic outbursts, and after I paced excessively in circles until I was so wound up that I was trembling, I went on a little mission of my own. A highly stupid mission that in hindsight was regrettable.

After lighting on an unsuspecting guard and devouring them with a slew of hateful threats, I managed to intimidate him into divulging were the lord Glorfindel would be residing. To my delight it appeared he was dealing with Echanar, and I could quite happily trample two upstarts in one go, especially with my entirely directionless fury.

I practically took the door off its hinges, entering into some kind of council chamber which I had forced the young and startled guard to direct me to. I did not stop to ask questions as I zeroed in on Echanar's weaselly form at the far side of the room, his face suddenly paling as I launch for him...and I almost had the satisfaction of feeling him choke under my hands...almost.

"You hateful scum!" I roar and wrestle with the two bodies that are now forcefully dragging me backwards. "Dishonourable coward! How dare you...I should break your jaw to prevent you from spreading your poisonous lies!"

Echanar scrambles behind a free desk and makes to lift it to put it between us, and I practically cackle in deranged amusement. A desk is not going to save him, I will break the desk over his pretty little head and then we'll see who can make suggestive sneers in the morning...vile rodent!

"Thranduil... _please_...I know this is a shock to you but please try and think rationally," the golden haired figure of that eccentric elf lord enters my line of vision, prohibiting me from glaring menacingly at my victim.

"Rationally?" I spit and struggle with the two guards who fight to restrain me. "How would you suggest I remain rational when everyone seems to know more than I? And this excuse for a noble lord has taken it upon himself to enlighten anyone who did not...including myself. Tell me Glorfindel...how should I act?"

"You should remember that it was not just your name tarnished here today, but the elleth you claim to love also," he warns me in a low and threatening voice, and I snarl disapprovingly. I hate his words, his logical and sensitive words, and I hate most that the truth in his statement stings like acid in my reeling spirit.

" _Why you_?" I find myself choking angrily on my question, I am not sure I want to know the answer but somehow I do not think I will recover until I ask it. "Why did she trust you over me?"

"She did not trust me," Glorfindel answers in a soft tone laced with regret. "I made a few assessments of her character and Clara admitted to me her truth, but I believe she did so out of fear, fear that she would be disregarded, or worse, mistreated as some kind of lunatic."

"You should have kept away," I growl, but it is less menacing and more weak than I intended. "You should have left her alone, you meddling eccentric...do you know what you have done?"

"Clara and I are not so different," he says with a weighted voice, and my heart drops in my chest. Yes, I know I am not worthy of her and I have been cruelly reminded as such.

"So, this was another scheme to punish me?" I rip through the words with wild coarseness. "I tell you the truth Glorfindel, I am weary of bleeding for Noldor wars and sacrificing myself and my people time and time to aid your kin. Clara's home is in Greenwood, those that love her are in Greenwood, she does not _need_ to be dragged into some war game because she is similar to you... _leave us alone!"_

"Peace Thranduil, this feeling of betrayal was planted in your head by Echanar...not I nor my kin," He continues and gestures to the weasel cowering in the corner. "I do not want anything from Clara, none of us do, she is as free to make her decisions as you are. She loves you, and I believe she is frightened that her truth would be too much for you to believe."

"I want _him_ punished!" I hiss, ignoring Glorfindel's plea as I shrug out of the grip of both guards. "I do not speak of his cousin in such degrading words, and I do not shame her, although it speaks volumes of she and her kin when they do not stretch such grace to me."

"You shame her, and us, by showing up here with a bride as young as an elfling," Echanar snaps viciously and I go rigid. My jaw tightening as I refuse to acknowledge his comment.

"Someone gag this idiot," Glorfindel groans as he runs a hand through his hair. "I swear my patience for his misinformed rambling is running thin."

"But surely it is plain how ill-equipped the elleth is," Echanar continues like the loud mouthed imbecile he is. "She is bizarre, a lunatic, ranting of another world and returning from death."

" _Silence!"_ Glorfindel orders, surprising me by the sudden fierceness in his voice. "You know not of what or who you defame with such thoughtless words. Dare you question Eru Illúvatar...do you dare question my judgement when I say she is speaking the truth?"

Echanar falls silent, eventually realising his insult and dropping his case. However, I'm not really above letting someone have the last word over me.

"Bregeth - your cousin - betrayed and shamed me, my king, and my whole Kingdom, when she was caught in the arms of a Lindon merchant whilst our infant son was abandoned out of her selfish needs." I speak evenly and in a flat tone, my eyes gradually moving over Echanar before they meet his hardened gaze. "It was her choice to leave, and therefore my life, and the life of our son, is of no consequence or interest to you! _You forget your place, Echanar, your kin forfeit the right to address royalty!"_

"Thranduil, you need to leave," Glorfindel quietly interjects, his gaze softened and understanding...it grinds me. "You are above this misunderstanding, as is Clara, now leave and take rest...I will seek to end this."

Clenching my jaw, I give a curt nod before exiting the room and storming straight into both our host and my rather irate father... _oh Valar I have not the patience for his opinion either._

"You were right I was wrong, no need to lecture me," I gripe as I pass he and Elrond, pausing briefly to glare daggers at our host.

"Thranduil, my deepest apologies for the upset caused," Elrond murmurs apologetically, "be assured I will deal with this harshly."

"Yes, well it's all a little late," I snipe and carry on my way. "Or maybe it was a good thing," I shout as I round a corner, "best to air all secrets before I make another shameful mistake...eh Ada?"

"Oh for the love of all that is holy!" Adar growls in exasperation, and I hear him mumble some sort of apology to our host and then the sound of his brisk and aggravated footsteps as he follows me.

"What are you going to do Thranduil...run as usual...push out anything that has the remote chance of causing you heartache?" Adar calls after me as I take an unexpected left towards the gardens. I pause momentarily, flinching at his comment.

"Are you not pleased Ada?" I query as I tilt my head his direction. "Are you not delighted that your misgivings over my betrothed have been justified?"

"I am not _pleased_ about anything that tears my child apart," he practically roars. "Grow up Thranduil! Grow up and take responsibility for your decisions. _You_ fell in love with that elleth, _you_ chose to ignore all the warnings, and _you_ brought her here! Now _you_ deal with the consequences. Forgive her or forget her, the choice is yours, but she is under the protection of my rule and I _must_ keep her safe...she is innocent as far as this is concerned."

"Then you believe her tale?" I ask in shock, for I was actually expecting a gloating lecture.

"I did not say that," Adar reminds me with a stern look. "But I do know that Glorfindel is not to be trifled with, nor is Elrond, you are lucky they are as understanding as they are." My father crosses his arms huffily and glowers into the night before speaking again. "Elrond considers Glorfindel's guidance on the matters of spirituality and the Valar as absolute, as do many elves. Your Naneth had the same influence over our people. I cannot disregard Glorfindel's insistence that Clara is telling the truth...as far fetched as it seems."

"What am I supposed to believe?" I mutter at the ground, my head beginning to swim with too many questions. "I am uncertain as to how I am supposed to proceed as a Prince should?"

"Yes, well, ion nin, you long abandoned the ability to act without involving your heart. Reason no longer rules you, and that will always be your greatest weakness," Adar barks gruffly as he turns on his heel, and I stare after him in a mixture of resentment and regret. He pauses just before he disappears into the shadows and sighs deeply. "It is also a strength to know your own heart, and I have no doubt you will use it to guide you with Clara. But I swear Thranduil...if you pull another stunt like this again...I will personally revoke your right to rule. You _cannot_ continue with this destructive behaviour, not with a child of your own, and not while you carry the pride of my name...is that understood?"

"Yes," I answer weakly and fall into step behind him like a chastised elfling.

"Get a handle on that stubborn temper, ion, it's going to work against you," Adar grumbles before gently setting a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch. "And rest," he continues grimly, "take a little time and clear your mind, you do not have to figure everything out at once...it will be easier when we are home."

I can't argue with him, mostly because he is right, and I am weary. Very weary. I cannot tell which is more upsetting; the fact that Clara kept her life hidden from me, or the fact it was played out like a spectacle for all to draw judgement. Presently I just feel embarrassed and guilty for falling into the temper tantrum Echanar so eagerly expected from me. Adar is very much correct, I do need to grow-up, this silly victimised mentality is going to stand in the way of any future contentment that I wish to make for myself. I just wish I could will my mind to let go and forgive her, but right now I only feel like a foolish elf that allowed himself to get carried away with a daydream.


End file.
